Page 106 of And Then Came You

It’s a joke. Of sorts.

“Thank you.” He wraps his arms around me, peppering my hair with kisses. “I really thought that blonde was going to take it and you were going to leave me to the wolves.”

“I considered it, but she doesn’t deserve you. You’re far too precious a commodity for the open market.”

“Care for another drink?”

“Only if you’re buying. I’m broke.” I chuckle, but the fact that I dropped $15,000 inside of five minutes is making me queasy.

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Give me your bank information and I’ll have my accountant transfer the funds.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“A deal is a deal.”

“Yeah, but if you pay for it, then I don’t get a date.”

Sam moves in closer, his fingers trailing the length of my spine. “Who says?”

The bartender places the drinks in front of us, and I flash him a smile of gratitude. I know I did the right thing, but I appreciate a bit of alcohol to soothe my landing back to reality.

“Any idea how you’d like to spend our day?”

He’s still touching me. In fact, his hand has gotten more presumptuous, traveling lower across my hips and the top of my ass. Those feather-light caresses are making it exceedingly hard to think about anything beyond him touching me with nothing between us.

I spy the blonde bidder from earlier across the bar, her gaze intent on us. Well, Sam really. She couldn’t give a flying fig about me, except that I’m an obstacle to her man. But her presence gets my back up for another reason.

A reminder of what she planned to do with Sam, should she win the auction. It doesn’t matter how handsome the man is, or that I spent more than a used car to secure his time; his body should never be used as some sort of conquest.

Not even by me.

Especially not by me.

I gaze around the bar, trying to come up with something fun for the two of us to do that doesn’t involve me ripping his clothes off. Spying the television, I snap my fingers.

“I’ve got it. The playoff game is tomorrow. We’ll go to the pub.”

Sam’s eyes narrow at me, a confused look crossing his features. “How is that date material? Wow, Lexi, you’ve really dated some assholes.”

I face my drink, words failing me. He’s right, of course. I’ve dated a huge number of jerks, ranging from rude right up to life-threatening. But it’s the look of sympathy on his face that makes me so uncomfortable. Here I am, saving him from the jaws of the Great Platinum, and he’s making me feel bad for choosing events that both of us can enjoy. Ones that don’t involve him having to screw for his supper.

“You love football. Besides, all those women earlier intimated that the entire point of winning the auction was to sleep with you.”

“I figured.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

His vivid green eyes lock onto mine, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Bothers the hell out of me.”

“Exactly, which is why we are going to the pub, drinking some beer and betting on the game. I’m not paying you to sleep with me, although you will have to cover the bar tab.” I chuckle, nodding for a final drink.

But Sam isn’t laughing. Instead, a whimsical smile decorates his lips, softening his features. I startle as his fingers brush my ear, tucking back a strand of hair. “Thank you, Lexi. I don’t deserve you.”

“What can I say? You got lucky.”

“I certainly did.” Pressing a kiss to my hair, he nods at the photographer across the bar, motioning for him.

Turns out the auction isn’t Sam’s only obligation. Those women not lucky enough to score a date with Mr. Bernard will have to settle for a photograph with him. The caveat? They get to choose the pose, so long as it’s not fully nude. At $1,000 a pop, I shudder to consider how risqué a photo they’re expecting.

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