The Billionaire's Bridal Bid Read Free

“Five hundred. Do I have five-fifty?”
    Relief flooded her and hot on its heels was curiosity. Who had raised the paddle? Her eyes adjusted to staring out into the dark room and she caught a glimpse of the man holding the paddle. Vic Ballard. No surprise there.
    “Do we have five-fifty?” Rudy was still asking. “Going once. Going twice.”
    Claire sighed, ready to resign herself to an evening of aerobic grope-dodging.
    “Going… Five-fifty, to the gentleman in the back.”
    The bidder in the back had flashed his paddle so quickly Claire hadn’t seen more than a flash of white. And with the lights shining in her eyes, she could see only the vague outline of the man’s shape. But whoever he was, people in the crowd recognized him and a murmur spread through the room.
    “Do we have six hundred? Six hundred?”
    Vic, sitting in the front row, was close enough to the stage that Claire could read his expression. He shifted in his seat, looking over his shoulder. When he turned back, his features had been chiseled into pure determination. His paddle went up.
    “Six hundred!” Rudy crowed. “How about seven—” But before he could even finish the question, the paddle in the back flashed. “Seven hundred! Eight hundred? Eight.”
    From there the bidding moved with a rapidity that made her head spin. A thousand. Fifteen hundred. Two thousand. Five thousand.
    With each twitch of the paddle the numbers grew. As the bidding spun out of control, a preternatural hush fell over the audience. Soon the gaze of every audience member was bobbing back and forth between Vic and the mysterious bidder at the back of the room. If the bidding war alone didn’t make it obvious, the focus of the audience’s rapt attention surely did. This wasn’t about her at all.
    This was about the rivalry between these two men. Some age-old competition was being played out before the entire town. And she’d been nominated as the prize.
    That realization made her chest tighten and her breath quicken. She could think of only one person whom Vic considered an adversary.
    But it couldn’t be Matt. He’d never bid on a date with her. Not ten dollars, let alone ten thousand.
    Which was, she now realized, the number Vic had just agreed to.
    The pressure in her chest built. Ten thousand dollars. That was so much money. An insane amount.
    The bidder at the back must have thought so, too. Because his paddle remained down for an interminable second. And then another. And another.
    Beside her, Rudy was babbling. Extolling her virtues, trying to entice the bidder into upping his bid. But the man’s paddle stayed down.
    “You’re going to let her go, son?” Rudy prodded.
    If the man responded, she still couldn’t see.
    Rudy started in again. “Going to Mr. Vic Ballard. For ten-thousand dollars. Going once. Going twice.”
    “Twenty thousand dollars.”
    It was the man at the back. He’d called out what would undoubtedly be the closing bid. And as he spoke, he stepped forward, out of the shadows.
    He was dressed in a tux that looked as if it had been made for his tall, lean frame. He wore his hair close-cropped, whereas the last time she’d seen him it had been long and ragged. Still she recognized him immediately. Not just because his image occasionally graced the pages of Us Weekly and OK magazine.
    No matter how he was dressed or what he’d done to his hair, she’d know Matt Ballard anywhere.

Two
    T he morning after the fundraiser, Claire rolled out of bed at four in the morning, contemplating her cowardice.
    She’d fled the stage the instant Rudy had banged his gavel, ending the bidding on her date. Quite simply, she’d been unable to face the stunned silence of the crowd. Or their burning curiosity. She’d hurried home, locked the door, unplugged the phone and turned off her cell, ready to bury her head under a pillow like the proverbial ostrich.
    Sleep had eluded her, however. For the first time since she’d bought Cutie Pies from her