Ignoring her, Bridget added, “And while we’re at it, you might as well fork over that fifty bucks ahead of time. There’s no way I’d even consider such a cockamamy thing.”

Two

Bridget had to admit this part of the country was beautiful. She lifted her head, her gaze tracking the tall pecans and cottonwood trees as they ballooned upward. Around her were mountains the color of red bricks, flanked by fertile valleys covered with buffalo grass.

Still, Bridget couldn’t believe she was here at the auction in the backwater town of Pennington, Utah. Worse, she was parked in the front row of the Pennington Civic Pavilion, gawking like the other women packed onto the plastic folding chairs. At least, Bridget told herself, she wasn’t gawking for the same reason. For one thing, the auction hadn’t begun yet, though offstage the men she guessed were participants stood laughing and talking. The other women, including Tiffany, were watching them with blatant curiosity.

Bridget refused to lower herself to do more than glance in their direction, mortified that somehow Tiffany had managed to get her way after all.

“Well?”

Tiffany’s whisper jolted Bridget to the moment at hand. “Well, what?” she asked in a vexed tone.

Tiffany laughed. “You know what.”

“You want your money.”

Tiffany rubbed two fingers together, her grin widening. “I’ll take it any time you’re ready to give it to me.

“I’m surprised you’re just now asking.” Bridget’s tone was churlish at best.

Tiffany’s laughter deepened. “Hell, I wasn’t sure you’d actually go through with it.”

“What did you think I was going to do? Jump out of that damn puddle jumper they call a plane?”

“No, but once we got here, you could’ve refused to go any farther.”

“If I had half a brain, I would’ve turned around and taken the next Spirit of St. Louis back to Texas.”

“Aw, and miss out on all this fun? Come on, pay up, then let your hair down, for heaven’s sake. We’ll enjoy the auction, get a load of eye candy—” Tiffany nudged Bridget’s shoulder “—eat some barbecue, then head to the motel.”

“And then go home, right?”

“Only after we see a little of the country,” Tiffany said. “I’ve never been this far west, and I aim to take advantage of it. Besides, once the auction’s over, you should be able to get that pained expression off your face and have a good time. You look like you just saw Wainwright again!”

Bridget threw up her hands, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s why you love me so much. Now, about that fifty bucks…”

“Damn you, Tiff!”

Tiffany merely laughed as Bridget slapped bills into her friend’s outstretched hand. She watched as Tiffany made a kissing sound before stuffing the money into her purse.

“Go to hell,” Bridget whispered.

“Thanks, I will, with a new purse hanging on my shoulder. This fifty smackers will help pay for it.” She paused. “It’s going to be all right, I promise. You’ll have a good time.”

“Sure I will, Tiff. I’ll probably cherish this moment forever…like I would having all my teeth pulled,” Bridget mumbled under her breath, turning away from Tiffany’s mischievous eyes.

Tiffany nudged her again, harder. “Hey, take a gander at that fellow with the black hair and mustache. He could do anything he wanted in my bed.”

“Behave yourself! You act like you haven’t had any in a long time.”

“If you’re referring to nooky,” Tiffany whispered, “I haven’t. Remember, you’re the one with the man.”

Only she hadn’t had any from him in a long time, Bridget thought, her mind turning to Hamilton and the hissy fit he’d thrown when she told him that Tiffany was trying to talk her into going away with her for a few days. Even now, she could see Hamilton in her mind’s eye. Tall and always impeccably dressed, which only heightened his gym-toned body to perfection, he was handsome in a stodgy sort of way. A successful stockbroker, his best asset was perfect white teeth, which he used to charm his clients. But on that particular day, the smile had turned into a grim frown.

“Why would you do a thing like that?” he’d asked with unusual bluntness. “You know how I feel about her.”

Bridget saw red, as she did so often of late when she was in his company. “You don’t have to like her. She’s my friend.”

“I still think you could do better. After all—”

“Save it, Hamilton. I don’t care what you think about Tiffany, or any of my other friends, for that matter.”

He had looked at her for a long time, that frown still in place. “What’s happened to you?”

Bridget played innocent. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, I think you know. Ever since you went off on that crazy tangent with that civil suit, then quit your job, you’re not the same person. I don’t know you anymore.”

“Maybe you never did.” Her tone was flat, with a tinge of sadness.

“So what are you saying, Bridget?”

“Nothing, for the moment, except that I think we should cool our relationship for a while.”

“If you ask me, that’s already happening. You haven’t let me near you in so long I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”

“Sorry, but I’m going through a bad time, and without any help from you or my family.”

He flushed. “Well, that’s because we don’t agree with what you’re doing.”

“Well, thank you for all the support, Hamilton! That lets me know exactly how you feel about me.”

“That’s not so. You’re—”

Disgusted, she cut him off in mid-sentence. “Forget it. I don’t want to hear any more.”

That conversation had taken place yesterday, and now she was wondering why she hadn’t listened to Hamilton, at least as far as this trip with Tiffany was concerned.

Heaven help her, but she felt she indeed had taken complete leave of her senses. Why had she done this? she asked herself again, even as a band struck up an unfamiliar country song that sounded like someone whining through his nose from inside an oil drum.

So what if her nerves had been on edge? So what if she’d received a lot of bad press and publicity from her lawsuit? So what if her parents were treating her like the family pariah? Though certainly disconcerting and depressing, it nonetheless didn’t warrant this erratic and out-of-character behavior.

She was a grown woman, thirty-one years old. She’d had lots of rejections in her life, mainly from her parents, who treated her more as an object to look at, to be proud of, rather than a flesh and blood person to be touched and loved. Even so, she’d never given in to self-pity or done anything stupid. Until now.

This situation was intolerable in every sense of the word. Surrounded by the aroma of barbecued meat, sitting among other women dressed in jeans and boots and listening to a horrible band loud enough to burst an eardrum was not her normal idea of entertainment. The women next to her and Tiffany were laughing and giggling as though they’d never seen a man in their lives. Their behavior was especially embarrassing in the circumstances, for Bridget couldn’t ignore the TV cameras and reporters planted around the stage and among the crowd.

“Are you ready?”

Bridget shook herself mentally and faced Tiffany. “For what?”

“God, will you get with the program? The auctioneer just stepped up on the stage.”

“How will I ever contain myself?” Bridget asked, adding as much sarcasm as she could muster.

“I know what you were thinking, so just stop it, will you? You’re here now, so you might as well make the best of it. Please, will you try to loosen up and enjoy yourself?”

Bridget couldn’t ignore the pleading in Tiffany’s voice, nor did she want to. She knew she was acting like a nitwit and hated herself for it. But at the same time, she was out of her element here, and was miserable. She should be in Houston, dressed in a threepiece suit and working with other attorneys in a courtroom. Instead, she was dressed in tight-fitting jeans, a Western shirt and boots that were killing her feet. She sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair, facing a pavilion that was little more than an oversize gazebo, watching a man approach the podium with a gavel in his hand.

Thank God, the late spring weather was cooperating. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a more perfect day. Warm, but not too warm. And the sun bouncing off the huge red rocks was so brilliant that it was almost blinding. It was beautiful here. The land was breathtaking, and Bridget imagined there were seldom many humans to block the view.

“Okay, I’ll give it a rest,” she responded at last. “But if you ever try to talk me into anything like this again, I’ll cut you up into tiny little pieces.”

Tiffany’s laughter was drowned out by the loud voice of the auctioneer.

“Ladies and what few gents there are here—” The man standing behind the podium with a gavel in his hand was tall and burly. It was apparent he reveled in the laughter that the word “gents” brought from the ladies.

His moment in the sun, Bridget thought, then scolded herself for her satirical attitude.

“I’d like to welcome you to the first event of this kind anywhere in the United States of America.”

“That’s for sure,” Bridget muttered under her breath, for which she received an elbow to her arm from Tiffany.

“Will you shut up and behave yourself?” Tiffany whispered. “But more than that, watch!” She threw Bridget a grin that was tinged with disgust. “Who knows, you might fall in lust with the first cowboy who saunters onto the stage.”

“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!”

Three

“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.’ Now what happens? You open your big mouth and insert your little foot!”

Bridget wailed, “What am I going to do?”

Tiffany grinned. “Well, friend, all I can say is that you’ve got your butt in a wringer. If it’s any consolation, he’s the best of the lot…by a long shot!”

“Don’t torment me, please.”

Tiffany erupted into laughter. “Me torment you? I think it’s the other way around. You’re the one who plopped down a cool thousand simoleons for the man.”

Bridget had never felt so foolish in her entire life. She couldn’t remember feeling like this even as a teenager, when she’d first discovered boys and giggled with her friends about them. Well, what was done, was done and while she couldn’t undo it, she could fix it. Or at least, she hoped she could.

“What next?” Tiffany asked.

“Where is he?”

“By he do you mean your hunk, Mr. Jeremiah Davis?”

Bridget glared at Tiffany. “He’s not my hunk. And yes, I mean him.”

“Well, at the moment,” Tiff drawled, “he’s shooting the breeze with the other fellows offstage.”

“Is he looking at me?”

“As a matter of fact, he is, and with quite a lot of curiosity, I might add.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Yep. I want to see how the counselor at law handles this one.”

Bridget considered strangling Tiffany on the spot, but the auctioneer chose that moment to rap his gavel. “That’s it, ladies. You’ve made your choices, and in doing so, you’ve helped us collect thousands of dollars for the women’s shelter. Now it’s time for you winners to grab your men and join in the fun.”

Everyone laughed and cheered—everyone except Bridget, who continued to sit in her chair, fearing if she moved, she would have a panic attack. She took several deep breaths and turned stricken eyes toward her friend, who also remained seated.

“So what are you going to do?” Tiffany asked in a bland tone.

Bridget wasn’t fooled. Underneath that bland exterior, laughter ached to bubble through.

“I wish to God I knew.”

Tiffany was loving every minute of her discomfort, but then well she should, Bridget thought. This served her right for acting holier than thou. Now she was having to choke on every word she’d said.

But more than that, what was she going to do about Jeremiah Davis, the man she had won? At any moment, she feared, he would walk up and say something to her. He had to think she was a sex-starved nympho. What if he made advances based on that assumption?

Tiffany voiced those exact thoughts. “I expect your man to appear on the scene at any second. And from the looks of him, he’ll make you think of Hamilton as a fond memory. Jeepers, did you see the size of his hands? Not to mention several other parts?”

“I don’t want to talk to him or his parts,” Bridget responded in a strained voice, feeling the anxiety build inside her. Not a good sign. “I’ll just pay my money, then we’ll leave.”

“Without saying anything to him?”

“Yes.”

“Fat chance. That man, all these men, think they have the makings of a relationship with the women who won them. After all, that’s what this was all about—someone to share their lives and their work.” Tiffany chuckled.

“Well, you and he can both forget that. I don’t know what happened to me, Tiff. I had no intention of saying a word.”

“If I’d had any extra money, I would have snatched him up myself.”

“You’re welcome to him…and I didn’t snatch him up!”

“Whatever you say, but a thousand dollars says you did. Argue with that! Look, I’m going to mingle, have something to drink and a bite to eat. You want to come?”

Bridget shook her head. “The thought of food makes me sick.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m starving.”

Bridget’s panic flared anew. “You mean you’re going to leave me? Alone?”

Tiffany’s lips twitched. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. The last time I checked, you were a big girl. You’ve been dressing yourself for years now. Of course…you just bought yourself some help with the undressing.”

“I’ll get you back, Tiffany Russell. Count on it.”

Tiffany winked, then walked off.

Bridget was tempted to go with her friend, but she didn’t think her legs would cooperate. They had as much consistency as water, which was what she needed to take a pill, her anxiety having reached a dangerous level. She dug in her purse, nabbed a tiny tablet and tossed it down cold turkey.

“Mind if I join you?”

She hadn’t seen him coming, and though she’d known his appearance was inevitable, she wasn’t prepared. Swallowing hard, she turned and looked into Jeremiah Davis’s face.

Up close, he was even more intimidating and fascinating. He had to be well over six feet tall—she knew that because he was towering above her. Against that tanned skin, his sandy hair and mustache looked almost gold. But again, it was those piercing green eyes that were his best asset among uneven features.

“Why? Am I coming apart?” she asked, hoping the remark would make him keep his distance.

His lips twitched, as though he knew she was uncomfortable. Still, he lowered himself into the chair that Tiffany had vacated and plopped down the Stetson he’d had in his hand. That was when she smelled his cologne. Instead of being offensive, it evoked the same feeling inside her that she’d felt when he first swaggered onto that stage. Nor could she ignore the way his thighs filled out his jeans to perfection.

Something foreign had a stranglehold on her, and she jerked away from his gaze before she made a bigger fool of herself than she already had.

“So, want to tell me your name?” he asked, his voice sounding low and slightly rough around the edges. But then, he was rough around the edges in every respect. Still, she couldn’t help but compare that voice to Hamilton’s, whose precise vowels oftentimes sounded high and whiny. As for the men themselves, there was no comparison.

“Well?”

Realizing she hadn’t answered his question, she cleared her throat and said, “It’s Bridget Martin.”

“You’re not from around here, are you, Bridget Martin?”

“Actually, I’m from Texas.”

He chuckled. “I sort of figured that. I love women with Southern drawls.”

I bet you just love women, period, she thought, then wanted to kick herself for her cattiness. But more than that, for even caring if he’d slept with every woman he’d ever met.

“Did this sideshow bring you to these parts?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do I hear contempt for what just went on?”

He eased back in the chair, then said, “Yep, you did.”

“Then why did you participate?”

“I thought that was obvious. I need a woman.”

Bridget sucked in her breath and without thinking looked at him. The way he was staring at her, she might have been the only woman in the world. Shaken, she jerked her eyes from his, but not before she saw his lips twitch again. He was toying with her, and loving every minute of it. But why? What had she ever done to him?

“Then I’m afraid there’s been a mix-up. Just because I helped out a women’s shelter doesn’t mean I need a man,” she managed to say, though the last part seemed to lodge in her throat.

<1 2 3 >

На страницу:

Перейти

2 из 3

Полная версия

Saddle Up

Другие книги автора