Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(92)

my dessert. "Come on, sweetheart," he told me. "We might as well go look too."

We excused ourselves from the table and followed Jack and Heidi into the mansion. One of the main rooms had been set up for the silent auction, rows of long tables littered with booklets, baskets, and item descriptions. Fascinated, I browsed along the first table. For each numbered item there was a leather folder with a bid list inside. You wrote down your name and the amount of your bid, and if someone wanted to top you, they added their name and a higher number underneath yours. At twelve o'clock, all bidding would be closed.

There was a certificate for a private cooking class given by a famous TV chef...a golf lesson from a pro who had once won the masters...a rare wine collection...a personal song written and recorded for you by a British rock star.

"What looks good?" came Gage's voice over my shoulder, and I had to fight the urge to lean back against him and pull his hands up to my br**sts. Right there, in a room full of people.

"Damn." I rested my fingertips lightly on the table, closing my eyes for a second.

"What is it?"

"I'll be glad when we get through this stage and I can think straight again."

He stayed right behind me. sounding amused. "Stage of what?"

My nerves sizzled as I felt his hand settle at my side. "There are five stages of dating." I told him. "The first is attraction.. .you know, the chemistry and the sort of h-hormonal high when you're together. The next stage is exclusivity. And then you settle into reality, when

the physical attraction dies down..."

His hand moved to the highest curve of my hip. "And you think this"—a subtle stroke that sent my nerves jumping—"is going to die down?"

"Well," I said weakly, "it's supposed to."

"You let me know when we get to the reality stage." His voice was dark velvet. "I'll see what I can do to get your hormonal high going again." He finished the caress with a proprietary pat on my hip. "In the meantime...would you mind if I left you just for a few minutes?"

I turned to face him. "Of course not. Why?"

Gage looked apologetic. "I've got to say a quick hello to a friend of the family—I saw him in the other room. I went to high school with his son. who died not long ago in a boating accident."

"Oh, that's so sad. Yes, I'll stay here and wait for you."

"While you're at it, pick out something."

"What kind of something?"

"I don't care. A trip. A painting. Whatever looks good. Anyone who doesn't participate in the auction will get raked over the coals in the paper tomorrow for not giving a crap about the fine arts. It's up to you to save me."

"Gage. I'm not going to be responsible for spending all that money on...Gage, are you listening to me?"

"Nope." He smiled and began to walk away.

I looked down at the brochure nearest me. "We're going to Nigeria." I threatened. "I hope you like elephant polo."

He chuckled and left me amid the rows of auction items. I saw Heidi and Jack examining some items several tables away, until more people entered the room and blocked my view. I studied the tables carefully. I couldn't figure out what in the world Gage would want. A fancy limited-edition European motorcycle...no way was I going to let him risk losing a limb. A Nascar experience in which you got to drive a six-hundred-horsepower stock car on a super speedway. Ditto. Private chartered yacht trips. Jewels with names. A private lunch with a beautiful soap opera actress.. .As if, I thought sardonically.

After a few minutes of dedicated searching, with lively melodic arias in the background. I found something. A high-end massage chair with an intricate control panel promising at least fifteen different kinds of massage. I decided Gage could give it to Churchill for a Christmas present.

Picking up a pen, I began to write Gage's name on the bidding sheet, but the ink wouldn't come out. The pen was a dud. I shook it and tried again with no luck.

"Here," said a man beside me. setting a new pen on the table. He used the flat of his hand to roll it closer. "Try this one."

That hand.

I stared at it dumbly, while the fine hairs on the back of my neck lifted.

A big hand, the nails sun-bleached, the long fingers scattered with tiny star-shaped scars. I knew whose hand it was, I knew it from a place that went deeper than memory. But I couldn't make myself believe it. Not here. Not now.

I looked up into a pair of blue eyes that had haunted me for years. Eyes I would remember to the last day of my life.

"Hardy," I whispered.

CHAPTER 22

I was paralyzed as I tried to take him in, this stranger I had loved so dearly. Hardy Gates had grown into all the promise of his younger years. He was a big, bold-looking man. Those eyes, blue upon blue, and the glossy brown hair, and the beginnings of a smile that sent a ripple of wonder through my soul...All I could do was stare at him, submerged in fearsome pleasure.

Hardy was still as he looked back at me. but I sensed the vibration of hard-running emotion beneath his exterior.

He took my hand gently, as if I were a small child. "Let's find a place to talk."

I clung to him. not caring that Jack might see us leave, not really aware of anything

except the clasp of those callused fingers. Hardy drew me away by the hand, away from the tables, to the waiting darkness of the outside grounds. We skirted the crowd, the noise, the lights, cutting around to the side of the house. It seemed the light tried to follow, stretching