Page 17 of Auctioned to the Professor

“Enough,” he says, going low like he’s going to tackle me into the waves. Instead, he grabs me around the waist and carries me back to the blanket. “Look at you,” he says.

“A mess?” I ask, shaking out my hair and sending droplets raining over him.

He barely notices and shakes his head. “Stunningly beautiful, as always.” He digs in the picnic basket and pulls out a small cardboard box.

Flipping it open, he reveals an intricately carved wooden ring that I admired at one of the shops earlier. I smile at the sweet gesture, reaching for it.

“Marry me,” he says.

My hand freezes and I stare at him, slowly closing my mouth when I realize it’s hanging open. “What?” is all I can say.

“As soon as we’re back home, I’m going to buy you a proper diamond, but I wanted to have this memory. Marry me, Faye. I need you to be mine.”

“I already am,” I tell him, my eyes flashing between the ring and his face. This isn’t a joke. He’s completely serious about wanting to marry me.

“I know,” he tells me. “But let’s make it official. Say yes so I can breathe again.”

I fall into his arms, nearly knocking the ring across the sand. “Yes, of course. I love you, and I love this ring. Don’t you dare buy me another one,” I tell him, knowing he will anyway.

He slips it on my finger and I stare down at the finely crafted wood, shining in the moonlight. Pulling me close, we settle back on the blanket to watch the stars pop out overhead.

“Should we tell our children how we met?” I ask, rolling to see his expression.

His eyebrows shoot up and he turns to me with a stern look. “We met in my classroom, which is already scandalous enough. There’s no way we’ll tell them how we got together.”

“Yeah, I guess it was pretty unconventional,” I agree, resting my head against his strong shoulder.

He puts his arm around me, shielding me from the cool breeze fluttering the palm trees all around us.

“Do you regret it?” he asks. “The auction?”

I nestle in closer before answering. “Now that we’re together, never.”

Epilogue

Ten years later

Grady

I settle into the hard folding chair to watch Faye take the podium, ready to give the keynote speech at this wildlife conservation conference. My wild, beautiful wife finally found her calling, and now spreads her love of art and nature through the charity she set up to raise support for indigenous artists all over the world. I’m not at all surprised that she rose to the top of her field and I quite enjoy tagging along and listening to her inspire people wherever we go.

She holds up a basket made in Peru, explaining how important keeping ancient practices alive is to the environment. The message is worth hearing, but I lose concentration while watching her move. Her slender arms tug at the prim and proper dress she’s wearing, drawing the fabric tight across her breasts.

There’s just something about seeing her shine, as passionate as ever, that gets me going. Oh hell, everything about her gets me going. I still love watching her. That hasn’t changed a bit in the past ten years.

I, however, have changed a lot in the past ten years. I gave up teaching for Faye, and that made me realize my true passion was in writing. For the two years before Nessa was born, I wrote furiously. I completed my first series (without spoiling a thing for Faye, somehow), and began my second. As soon as Nessa came along, I slowed way down so I could care for her while Faye follows her dreams, but I still write when I can. My fans are loyal enough that they are willing to wait for me to deliver while I let my brilliant girl shine.

As soon as she’s done with her presentation, I duck out before the next person takes the stage, to collect our kids from the hotel daycare. We decided to combine this conference with a family vacation and spend some time together.

Our eight-year-old daughter Nessa is supremely offended that we made her stay with a room full of babies, but I praise her for watching over her toddler sister Maisie and her mood turns sunny again.

“Mom’s going to meet us for lunch,” I say. “But we can wait for her by the pool.”

They cheer and I find a spot near the shallow end, sticking my feet in while Nessa pulls Maisie around in her puppy float. The sound of my children’s shouts of laughter warms me even more than the blazing sun.

Seeming to sense her, I turn to see Faye hurrying out of the hotel, her smile lighting up my life. I beam back at her, continuously amazed at how lucky I am. As soon as the girls see her, they scramble out of the pool, famished for the hot dogs I promised they could have since it’s vacation.

We order and settle in under a big umbrella and the girls dig in as soon as it arrives.

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