Page 49 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

No – 30

Maybe – 15

“These are encouraging numbers. Summer, darling, please exit the stage and we’ll see you back for the second portion of the evening’s festivities,” Alana said.

Summer moved to leave the stage and her heel got caught in the fabric. Her arms pinwheeled in the air as she wobbled on unsteady feet like my late friend Troy’s baby did when hefirst started walking. Eventually she got her balance, yanked the fabric from her shoe, rolled her eyes, and shrugged at the audience.

Several bellows of laughter could be heard echoing through the room.

“She is cute as a button. I’m going to bid on her,” a blond man I didn’t know nudged my shoulder from where he sat beside me.

“You’ll have to fight me for her, brother,” I announced coolly.

“Then may the best man win.”

“I will,” I stated flatly, staring him down as I would any true opponent.

He dipped his head, politely ending our little chat before turning to the side and leaving me to my thoughts.

All of them were about Summer.

I chuckled and shook my head. I’d given her the nickname “solskinn”when we’d met yesterday, because she exuded such a bright light. Now I found out her name was Summer. The endearment I’d called her meantsunshinein my language. Another startlingly clear sign that this woman was meant to be my bride.

After what felt like eternity, Summer appeared back on stage. She wore a red satin robe that came to mid-thigh and tied at her waist. Her hair was still piled up in a mix of intricate swoops and curls on top of her head. For a moment I wished it was down so I could see those long locks flow over her shoulders. Then I remembered I was the only one here who had seen her a little more wild and free. I was deliriously happy my competition wouldn’t ever get the chance to see her that way.

“Welcome back, Summer. Please remove your robe,chéri,” Alana announced.

Summer untied the bow, shimmied a shoulder until it was bare, and then repeated the process on the other side, stillclutching the satin to her chest. She was absolutely putting on a show with exaggerated facial expressions and moving her body in a manner which I’m sure she believed was seductive, but came off entirely comedic, rather than sexy. The woman was positively charming as she gave her best mini-strip tease of the single item.

Then she let the fabric fall and my mouth dropped open. I knew she had a knockout body, but standing in a strapless red bra that her breasts were practically bulging out of and a tiny scrap of red satin that had a t-strap that went straight up her arse in the back, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination? Priceless.

Before I knew it, I was standing and yelling, “Three million dollars.”

Madam Alana chuckled lightly. “It seems we have the first bid. Please don’t forget to use your paddle so that my team can record who is proposing an amount and when.Merci,” she finished.

I grabbed my paddle right as the guy sitting at the table next to me held his aloft. “Three and a half million,” he offered.

I snarled, my nostrils flaring. “Four million.” I clicked my paddle on.

“Four and a half million,” the man countered.

Irritation poured through my veins as another bid came through from somewhere on the opposite side of the room.

“Five million! She looks as sweet as apple pie,” a man with a cowboy hat yelled in a booming voice.

I watched in horror as Summer’s cheeks heated, turning rosy pink as she grinned at the compliment.

Absolutely not. No way. I was not leaving this event tonight without a bride on my arm, and that person would be Summer Belanger.

“Six million!” I waved my paddle angrily, skipping the halfway point monetarily in the hopes I could nudge these suitors to leave well enough alone.

“Six and a half million,” the man next to me growled, and craned his neck from side to side.

“You really want to tangle with me?” I scoffed in his direction. “I’m Jack Larsen, the CEO of Johansen Brewing. You know, the largest supplier of beer in the world. Ring any bells?” Usually all I had to do was share my position and the company I worked for and people backed off.

The man’s eyes widened, and he lifted his hand to rub at his jaw. “Still any man’s game. I don’t care who you are,” he boasted weakly.

I took a moment to assess the male before me. His suit was adequate but nothing of the caliber mine was. His hair was swept off his forehead neatly, but the sweat beading at his hairline and the way he was constantly fidgeting was telling. I suspected the bravado he was spouting may not be backed financially. My best guess was that he probably wasn’t planning to offer much more.

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