Beauty and the Bachelor(3)

Especially since she could too vividly recall her mother's devastation  after discovering affair after affair, until she'd finally evolved into a  living mannequin who'd caulked off her heart against her husband's  blatant infidelities.

No passion. No expectation of a grand, fiery love.

No pain.

For an insane moment, Sydney considered hiding the bidding paddle under her chair.

"Two little-known facts about bachelor number five are he played center  on his high school basketball team and was cast as Bill Sikes in the  drama club's production of Oliver!" A wave of laughter followed the  revelation, and it earned a chuckle from Sydney. Hmm. She hadn't known  those surprising-and oddly charming details-about Tyler. "Eventually, he  discovered he was much more coordinated and talented in the boardroom  rather than on the court or stage. The woman who eventually becomes his  leading lady will be intelligent, confident, and able to go toe-to-toe  with him. Particularly since he considers his worst trait to be  stubbornness. The lucky lady who ends up on the arm of this bachelor  will hop a helicopter ride from Boston to New York, enjoying a Broadway  production of Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera and a late  dinner at a five-star restaurant on the waterfront. Opening bid at ten  thousand?"         

     



 

Funny how she'd learned more intimate details about him in a two-minute  spiel than she had in the year they'd been dating. She loved plays,  particularly musicals, and had had no idea her fiancé shared the same  appreciation. There went that small pool of disturbing warmth again.  Shaking it off, she lifted her paddle.

The bidding war didn't last long. She won him at a suitable fifteen  thousand with remarkable ease, almost as if the other women in the room  realized who stood behind the mask as well. Silently, she huffed a sigh.  Who am I kidding? They were probably very aware of Tyler's identity and  made the prudent decision not to go up against Charlene Blake's  formidable will.

Duty completed, Sydney barely paid attention to the rest of the auction.  The evening flew by, and before long, the MC had called all the men  back out onto the stage. They filed out in a straight line according to  the order they'd appeared.

Sydney straightened in her seat, inexplicably eager to see Tyler's face.  A tiny voice whispered that this sudden, unbidden fascination with her  fiancé was unwise … dangerous. Personal experience had taught her the  Blake family fortune, reputation, and connections presented more of an  allure than she did. "Plain" had been one boyfriend's description of her  that she'd accidently overheard-much to his chagrin and disappointment  when shortly thereafter he became her ex-boyfriend. But her father's  position as CEO of the Blake Corporation? Very attractive.

Since then, she'd viewed relationships with a pragmatic eye. She entered  in acknowledging they would be based on logic rather than love. A  merger rather than a marriage. That's what she and Tyler had, and she  welcomed it.

Still, she leaned forward, her entire focus aimed at bachelor number five.

"Now, what you've all been waiting for … " A drum roll vibrated on the air. "Bachelors, please remove your masks!"

As if time slowed to half speed, he removed the disguise. Inch by inch  he revealed his strong jaw and chin. The full mouth. The strong jut of  his cheekbones …

He pulled the mask free.

The air punched from her lungs, leaving her light-headed. The room spun  around her, and for a horrifying moment, she almost pitched forward. At  the last second, she gripped the edge of the table, steadying herself  and preventing a humiliating tumble out of her chair.

The face carved out of stone that accentuated the carnal curve of the  mouth … the dark slashes of eyebrows … the stunning turquoise eyes …  They fit  like puzzle pieces to form a truly beautiful man.

A man she'd never seen before.





Chapter Three


Round one: Lucas Oliver.

Triumph and satisfaction burned in his chest like a blazing torch as he  studied the sudden burst of activity at the table directly in front of  the stage. Jason and Charlene Blake leaned toward their daughter, their  faces drawn into tight, furious lines. Sydney-the endgame in this  evening's plan-wasn't looking at her parents, though. Didn't appear to  be paying them any attention at all. Her focus was aimed at the stage.  At him. The spotlight slightly blinded him to every nuance of her  expression, but still … he felt her gaze on him. Like a light hand on his  chest, his face. The touch was delicate, determined. Probing.

Inhaling sharply, he gave himself a mental shake, knocking aside the fanciful thought like an aggravating gnat.

"What the hell just happened?" a furious voice demanded next to him.

Arching an eyebrow, Lucas turned to the tall, dark-haired man to his  left, a scowl lowering his eyebrows over his green glare. Tyler  Reinhold, the fiancé of Sydney Blake. The man she'd assumed she was  bidding on in the auction. But a promise to meet with the mistress of  ceremonies' husband regarding a business proposal had garnered her  cooperation in supplying the wrong information to Sydney.

Aiden would've called his tactics underhanded. Lucas preferred inventive.

"I'm sorry?" he replied to Tyler's hiss, feigning ignorance.

Tyler didn't reply but instead shot Lucas an eat-shit-and-die glance  before storming off the stage. Lucas stared after the other man's  retreating, stiff back then returned his gaze to the tableau unfolding  on the floor. Sydney rose from the table, and her parents formed a  barrier on either side of her. Though from his distance he couldn't  catch the words, the tense figures, lowered heads, as well as the young  woman's calm-too calm-expression telegraphed the verbal attack her  parents waged.

And soon, her enraged fiancé would join the melee.

Damn. Turning sharply, he strode toward the wing and the exit at the  bottom of the shadowed staircase. He didn't analyze or question the  urgency in his steps or the need to act as her ally.         

     



 

Even if that ally was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Moments later, he approached the tight-knit group. He clenched his jaw,  grinding his teeth together so hard he could've breathed enamel dust.  With mother and father on either side of Sydney and fiancé in front,  they looked like a legion of armies surrounding a fortified garrison.

Like she was the enemy.

"Excuse me," he murmured, smoothly aligning himself next to her. "I'm  sorry to interrupt." Not a chance in hell. "But I wanted to introduce  myself." He smiled, clasping her hand in his and lifting it to his  mouth. Ignoring her soft gasp and the dark scowls of the other three  people, he brushed his lips over her knuckles and met a pair of lovely  hazel eyes. He fought off a frown. Perhaps the loveliest he'd ever seen.

The alluring, fragile scent of honeysuckle wrapped around him. For a  moment, her parents, fiancé, and even Lucas's own fifteen-year-old plans  of revenge faded and disappeared into the netherworld outside the  intimate circle enclosing him and Sydney Blake.

For six months now, Boston had been his temporary home, so he'd attended  many of the same social events as she-had even glimpsed her tall,  curvaceous figure and the long, straight fall of gold and brown hair-a  vibrant, warm blend that couldn't be achieved or copied in a beauty  salon.

Still, he'd never been this close, had never stood face-to-face with  her. Had never detected the spattering of golden freckles dusting her  nose and cheekbones that were barely discernible against her honeyed  skin. Never glimpsed the sweet dip over her top lip that invited a man's  tongue to sample, to taste. Never noted the sensual, plump fullness of a  mouth created for sin and pleasure.

He'd never been near enough to notice the perfect indent of her waist,  the beautiful thrust of her breasts against the emerald silk, or the  sexy path of her hip. Thank God her mother-who resembled all the other  thin-to-the-point-of-emaciated women in the room-hadn't managed to  starve or shame the curves off her.

Slowly straightening, he lowered her hand and even more slowly released  it. But he didn't liberate her from his scrutiny. The longer he stared,  the more his perplexity grew. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd  ever met. Since the age of sixteen, he'd dated-and fucked-many of them.  Her mouth was a little too wide, her features just a shade too plain to  be labeled beautiful. But the totality of her? The sensual promise in  that imperfect but sexual mouth, the gorgeous almond-shaped eyes, the  strong facial structure, and the walking-wet-dream body … she was  alluring. She was tempting.

She was stunning.

"Lucas Oliver," Jason Blake greeted him, extending his hand, and though  disgust curdled in his stomach, Lucas shook it. He ground his teeth  together, silently ordering himself to smile but unable to manage it.  When a man devoted his entire existence to greed and the relentless  pursuit of more wealth, more assets, more power at the expense of  loyalty, friendship, and honor, that evil should show on his face.  Should etch his skin. Weather him. But God or fate seemed to favor the  wicked. Because Jason Blake appeared as strong and handsome as he did in  Lucas's memories. Though his closely shaven hair was liberally  sprinkled with gray, lines barely etched his smooth, brown skin. His  shoulders were wide and straight and the bright hazel eyes he'd  bequeathed to his daughter were clear and sharp.