More than a Mistress(2)

"I didn't really have a choice," he'd said to his kid brother, over the  phone. "Anyway, it's for a good cause. All the money raised goes to  children's hospitals."

"Sure," Slade had said, and then he'd snorted.

"What"'

"Well, I was just thinkin'..." Slade's voice took on the soft, Texas  drawl of their childhood. "It's kind of like a bull bein' auctioned off  to a herd of heifers."                       
       
           



       

"It's a legitimate auction," Travis had said coldly, and slammed down  the phone. Then he'd picked it up, punched in the code for Slade's  Boston number again and said, before Slade could say a word, that he  should have known better than to have expected sympathy from his own  flesh and blood.

"You got it, bro," Slade had replied, and laughed until, at last, Travis  had laughed, too, and said how bad would it really be...

Travis shuddered. "Bad," he whispered, and closed his eyes.

All the senior partners and associates were in the audience. The clerks  and the secretaries were waiting by their telephones, eager to hear how  their entry did because this thing had taken on a life of its own, with  side bets, pool bets...

How much would he go for'? Would he top the Hannan and Murphy guy'?  Where would he place in the overall standings`? Would the woman who  "bought" him be good-looking? A ten, on the nutty scale the secretaries  had drawn up? A five? Or, as his own secretary had explained, with a  shudder, would a two or even a one be the winner?

Travis groaned.

Unless he went for the right price, to the right female, he'd never live  it down. And there was just no way to tell how things would go, once he  got on stage and put his fate in the hands of the auctioneer and the  wild-women masquerading as solid citizens. Why hadn't he had the brains  to set things up? Bought a ticket for Sally-no, not Sally. He'd just  sent her a bouquet of dog-toothed violets and an eight ounce bottle of  Chanel. Okay, then. Bethany. He could have bought Bethany a ticket, told  her to bid a thousand bucks more than whatever the Hannan and Murphy  guy went for and he'd pay her back-with interest.

Except, what good was a bet, if you had to cheat to win it?

There was no choice except to leave the bidding up to fate. And he, of  all people, knew that fate wasn't always kind, not even for an event as  silly as this.

"Your turn next, Cowboy."

Travis jerked upright at the sound of Peggy's voice.

"Great," he said stiffly. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

"Want me to take a peek at the house? Tell you who hasn't bought herself  a hunk yet and looks as if she might be willing to pay a decent price  for you?"

"It's unimportant," he said, with dignity, and she laughed.

"Move over, and let me look." "Look'? Look where?"

"There's a tiny crack, right here..." Peggy slipped up beside him and put her eye to the wall. "Aha!"

"Aha, what?" Travis asked, despite his best intentions to

appear disinterested.

"There are definitely some-what do you guys call them now? Foxes? Babes?"





"Attractive women," Travis said with dignity, and sent up a silent thank-you.

"Yeah, I'll bet. Okay, then, handsome, there are some attractive women." She sighed. "And some so-so's."

"Well," Travis said valiantly, "that's fine."

"And..." Peggy stiffened. "Uh-oh."

Travis froze. "Uh-oh, what?"

"Uh-oh, there's a lady right in the center who, uh, who probably has a  great personality. A terrific personality, you might say."

"I'm sure she has," Travis said bravely.

"And I'm sure the woman with the feather boa and the rhinestone tiara at the table right behind her will fascinate you no end."

"Oh." His shoulders slumped. "As bad as that?"

"And then there's the blue-eyed blonde who just walked in. Oh, I hate  her on sight! Great hair. Great face. Great bod, from what I can see of  it. Mark my words, Cowboy. Any woman who looks like that probably has  the intellect of a potato."

Travis laughed. "Meow."

"I'm just being honest. You get looks like that and, to compensate, you  get empty space between your ears. And the disposition of a weasel."

"A weasel, huh?" Travis grinned. "Whoever said women were the gentle sex didn't know what he was talking about."

"Well, it's the truth." Peggy stepped closer, smoothed down his lapels.  "So you do yourself a favor. Cowboy. Go on out there and play to the  crowd. To the-what'd you call 'em?-the `attractive women.' Heck, if  you're feeling generous, maybe even to the, uh, the lady with the  terrific personality." She smiled. "Forget about the Ice Princess."

Travis smiled, too. Suddenly, with the moment of truth upon him, he saw  all his worries for the foolishness they were. And he owed the  revelation to Peggy.

He took her hand and bowed over it.

"Ah, Slave Mistress, you have my heartfelt gratitude. To hell with Pebble Beach and my reputation."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." He lifted her fingers to his lips. "Too bad you're not out  there bidding, m'love. I'd be honored to be yours for the weekend."                       
       
           



       

Peggy blushed furiously and pulled her fingers free of his just as the gavel sounded and the crowd roared.

"You'll do lots better than me," she said, and gently shoved him toward  the stage. "Go on, handsome. Get out there and knock 'em dead."

Which was exactly what Travis decided he'd do.

He went onstage at a brisk trot, arms high overhead, hands clasped in a  winner's pose, and did a fair imitation of Sylvester Stallone's victory  dance in Rocky, while flashing a thousand-watt grin.

The crowd loved it, and roared its approval.

Travis laughed. What he'd told Peggy was the truth. This wasn't real  life. It was for a good cause. And it was fun, or it was supposed to be.  If the jerks in his office had made it into something else, that was  their problem, not his.

So what if he went for five hundred bucks? So what if he wasn't snapped  up by a hot-looking babe? Let everybody at Sullivan. Cohen and Vittali  have a laugh at his expense. Let 'em lose their crazy bets. He was going  to get into the spirit of things, have some fun and do his best to  raise a bundle of bucks for kids who really needed

Uh-oh.

Travis's smile dimmed just a little as he spotted the lady at the center  table nearest the stage. Peggy had certainly nailed it right. The lady  was certain to have a great personality. Well, so what'? She had a nice  smile. Hey, she was probably a nice person. The auctioneer was doing his  intro, a bit about Travis Baron, Esquire, and Travis strutted a little  more, grinned when somebody let out a piercing wolf whistle and shot a  big smile to the lady in the front.

"Do I hear five hundred dollars to start?" the auctioneer said, and the  lady with the smile and the personality whooped and said, "How about a  thousand?"

A cheer went up and Travis smiled, and looked at her, looked past her...

And thought, just for a second, that his heart was going to leap straight out of his chest.

A woman was standing behind the last tables. He knew, right away, she was the latecomer Peggy had described.

She was also the most beautiful woman Travis had ever seen in his life.

Peggy had said she was blonde and blue-eyed. With great hair, a great face and a great body.

All correct. And all wrong, because those words didn't come anywhere close to describing her.

Her hair was a cascade of silk the color of ripening wheat, her eyes the  color of Texas bluebells. Her face was a perfect oval, with those  incredible blue eyes darkly lashed and wide-set under slender, arched  brows. She had a proud, straight nose, a sexy indentation above her  mouth...

Oh, that mouth. The full upper lip. The softly curved lower one.

It was a mouth made for kissing.

His gaze dropped lower, to the tanned shoulders left bare by a  halter-necked dress the color of garnets, to the generous lift of her  breasts, the slender waist and rounded hips. Her skirt ended at  midthigh, revealing a long length of shapely leg.

His blood hummed in his ears.

He wanted her. Wanted her with a primal need and desire that surpassed  anything he'd ever known. He wanted to kiss that mouth, caress that  body.. .and melt the coldness that clung to her like an invisible sheath  of ice. He could see it in her posture. In the way she didn't so much  as blink when his eyes met hers again. In the defiant lift of her chin.

He knew she could see the frank, sexual appraisal in his gaze-and that it didn't matter a damn to her.

Look all you like, she seemed to say, but don't be foolish enough to think you can have what you see.