The Bachelor Auction Part XVIII

Mom beamed. I tried to ignore it. After all, the woman had been trying to get me to take a look at Calvin for years.

It’s so annoying when she’s right.

And wow, I had to admit, was she ever. Calvin didn’t even wait to hear if there were any other bids, just swept toward me wearing that sexy feline grin I was sure I could get used to seeing on a regular basis. The tattered remnants of the wildest bachelor auction in our little town’s history staggered to make way for him. The quarterback was walking with a definite limp, I noticed, and the knight, finally giving up on his malfunctioning costume, tore his helmet off and hurled it away from him with a frustrated growl.

Not bad, I decided, taking in the flowing blond locks that tumbled over his shoulders. But he’s no Calvin. Who would have thought, before today, that I’d be thinking that with a racing pulse and butterflies in my stomach?

Calvin strode to me, stopping only inches away. I barely heard the delighted squeals of the contingent of local nurses as they rushed to the aide of the fireman, who’d just been knocked out cold by a certain flying hunk of medieval metal. All I could hear was the labored sound of my own breathing, and the thunderous beat of my heart.

Well, it could have been the stampede of nurses, I suppose. But still.

Calvin leaned down to talk to me, his lips almost touching my ear. I could smell his cologne, something spicy and thoroughly male, and wondered if maybe my new Vulcan love toy had also discovered Captain Kirk’s secret for attracting bikini-clad alien babes. Because God knew he smelled good enough to eat. Lick. Hell, just take a big damn bite out of…

“Sold,” he murmured, his warm breath sending delicious shivers down my spine. “On one condition.”