Bachelor Auction by Darah Lace Page B

the morning.
    Marcus raised his fist to knock a third time as
    the door opened. Charlotte eyed him lazily. Her
    blonde hair fell around her shoulders in a disheveled
    82
    Bachelor Auction

    yet provocative mess. If not for the formfitting black
    dress she wore, he could, without difficulty, picture
    her reluctantly easing from her lover’s embrace to
    answer the door.
    He banished the image to the back of his mind,
    since he couldn’t fully erase it, and forced a smile.
    “Morning. You ready to go?”
    She blinked her confusion. “Well, um, thanks,
    but actually you should go on ahead. Melody is
    picking me up.”
    Marcus hooked a thumb over his shoulder,
    pointing to Spencer and Melody. “I didn’t want to
    leave my car at the airport, so Spencer offered me a
    ride.”
    “Oh.”
    That single syllable, though barely audible, rang
    with disappointment, its echo in his ears nearly
    drowning out the clickety-clack of her high heels as
    she started across the white marble foyer. Marcus
    ground his teeth to keep from telling her he didn’t
    like the situation any more than she did. That she
    was the last woman he would spend time with if
    given the choice. But he didn’t have a choice, and
    arguing wasn’t the best way to start the weekend.
    Without
    waiting
    for
    an
    invitation—he’d
    probably see hell freeze over before he got one—he
    moved through the door and closed it behind him.
    With each step his irritation gave way to curiosity.
    He’d often wondered what comforts a creature like
    Charlotte surrounded herself with.
    He paused at the doorway of a spacious living
    area. At first glance he found the room as sleek and
    lush as its owner, a setting obviously designed for
    seduction. Velvet, the color of fine claret, draped the
    windows to create a dark and secluded atmosphere.
    Overstuffed chairs and a sofa upholstered in
    burgundy and vanilla brocade, with huge throw
    pillows, flanked a fireplace made from the same
    83
    Darah Lace

    crème marble he stood on. Wine-red candles of
    assorted widths and heights lined the mantle and
    cluttered both the inner and outer hearth that
    blended smoothly into carpet so thick and plush it
    made him think of quicksand.
    If he’d seen the room a week ago, he would have
    wondered how many men had been sucked under.
    He would have thought it mirrored the sultry
    personality of the Charlotte Reese he’d known these
    last five years. Now he questioned why the room
    held none of the personality of the woman he’d
    glimpsed yesterday at the hospital.
    The tapping of Charlotte’s heels fell silent,
    drawing his attention across the entryway where the
    hard flooring ended and more of the soft, crème
    carpeting began, a direct contrast to the clingy dark
    fabric that curved across swaying hips. Stirred to
    action and definitely interested in seeing the rest of
    her home, he took the steps two at a time to catch
    up.
    He reached her side on the landing halfway up
    the stairs. “You have a nice place.”
    “Thanks,” she muttered absently.
    “Doesn’t seem to really fit you though.”
    She jerked to a stop and looked at him as if he
    were a big hairy spider and she suffered from
    arachnophobia.
    “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. It’s just—”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I thought we’d already established I’m here
    with Spencer and Melody to take you to the airport.”
    She shook her head and pointed to the spot
    where he stood. “No, what are you doing here ? Why
    aren’t you waiting outside?”
    “I’m helping you with your suitcases.”
    He placed a foot on the next step. She stayed
    him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you, but you
    don’t have to do that.”
    84
    Bachelor Auction

    “It’s no problem.”
    She darted a quick glance toward the room at
    the top of the stairs, then climbed to the step above
    him and placed a hand on his chest. “I can manage.
    Really.”
    For one who hid her feelings well, this show