The Date Auction (12 page)

“Sounds like she was jealous,” William interrupted again.

“Or maybe I
was an arse?” Harry stroked his chin as he pondered the possibility. “It must have seemed like I was ignoring her. As soon as Natasha showed up, I completely turned my back on poor Cora. She must have been devastated. I can't say I blame her for storming off like she did.”

“She stormed off?”

“She did.”

“And all you did was talk to Natasha? It sounds like this Cora girl has some issues. Maybe she's crazy?”

“I don't think she's crazy.” He felt honor-bound to defend his Cora.

His
Cora? At what point did she become
his
Cora, he wondered.

“Do you think I should call her? Try to make amends?”

“That depends,” William replied. “Do you like her?”

“Not especially. I mean, it isn't as if I
dis
like her. And I wouldn't want her to be mad at me, but I--”

“You should call her,” Alaina said. She was going to give her opinion, whether he wanted it or not. “If Will Will started talking to one of his ex-girlfriends and completely ignored me, I'd be pretty pissed off too.”

Harry acknowledged her opinion with an appreciative nod. “I'll take that into consideration. Thank you.”

The game ended, and the Giants lost by fourteen points. It was slightly reassuring that their defeat came at the hands of the Patriots, William's second favorite team. It seemed like an epic face-off, one he would have enjoyed twice as much if he hadn't been sandwiched between Alaina and Harry.

As they made their way to Alaina's car, Harry was approached by a young blonde girl. She was a bit overweight, and the tips of her hair had been dyed blue. Somehow, she reminded Harry of Cora, minus the fact that this girl's face was covered in freckles.

“Are you Harry Shaw?” the girl asked.

“I am indeed.”

“I thought so.” The girl dipped into her purse and pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper and a blue pen. “I know you probably have better things to do, but do you mind signing something for me?”

Harry reached for her pen and paper as he replied. “Believe it or not, I very rarely have better things to do.” He gave the girl a wink. “And I certainly don't mind.” After signing his name, he passed the paper back to his fan, flashed a polite smile, and said, “cheers.”

“
Don't
complain,” William grumbled to him as they walked away.

“Complain? Why would I complain?”

“I don't know. A lot of celebrities complain about having to deal with fans,” William said. “Personally, I'd be thrilled to have someone approach me for an autograph.”

“I
am
thrilled to have someone approach me for an autograph,” Harry assured him. Regardless of what William thought, he adored his fans. They gave him a reason to work hard, to pursue his dreams. “I'm very thrilled. And I'm hardly a celebrity.”

His encounter with the eager-eyed fan helped him come to a conclusion:

He needed to make amends with Cora Crosby.

Chapter Thirteen

He didn't tell her he missed a football game to be with her, or that he had spent most of the day thinking about her, or that he couldn't wait to see her again. It wasn't in Jamie's nature to let people know how much they meant to him, or how much he cared for them. He was perfectly content to let Eva believe she was a meaningless diversion.

They had already had dinner together, and now they were perusing New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art. Eva was especially fascinated by the Greek and Roman gallery, where hundreds of sculptures were on display. At the moment, he was standing beside her as she examined an armless ancient statue.

“Poor guy,” she observed. “Do you think his arms are still out there somewhere?”
“I don't know. They might be.” Ever since they arrived at the museum, Jamie had been tempted to wrap an arm around her, to claim her as his. So why couldn't he do it? He didn't know what it was about Eva that made him so shy.

“Have you ever noticed that all of their penises are ridiculously small?” She was shaking her head as she studied the sculpture in front of her. “He barely has more than a thumb!”

“If I was him, I would have demanded a few more inches from the sculptor.”

“It's probably an accurate depiction. I mean... look at all his friends! They're about the same size.” Her eyes swirled around the room, glancing over the many sculptures with miniscule man parts.

“Again, I would have demanded some extra inches from the sculptor.”

“If I was a sculptor, I'd want to sculpt you,” Eva said. “Just look at you! You're like a god. I'm sure you'd be a sculptor's dream come true.”

He could feel himself blushing—which was pitiful, really. He hadn't blushed since he was in middle school. “I'm hardly a god.”

“I'm sure there are a million women out there who would disagree with you,” Eva protested. “You
are
a god, and I'm the lucky mortal who gets to bask in your divine presence. Can you believe this is our third date?”

“You're right.” And he was ashamed. It was their third date, and he hadn't even tried to kiss her. What was wrong with him? He liked her, she seemed to like him, they had great chemistry and they always got along. What was stopping him? Was it the fact that she was so much older than him? “I guess I never thought about it.”

“So, let's see...” Eva unfolded her map of the Met and attempted to plot a course. “What do you think we should see next? How about some medieval art?”

“What about the Department of Arms and Armor?” Jamie suggested. “They have armor that used to belong to King Henry VIII.”

“Really? Wow. I didn't know that.” She pretended to be impressed. “Look at you, you're practically a tour guide!”

“I know.” With a smirk, he said, “And over here, we have a giant marble bull's head. Over there, you can see a statue of a woman's butt.”

“Wow, you're really good at this. They should pay you to give tours,” Eva teased him. “Of course, that might pose a bit of a problem with the ladies. They would stare at you instead of the art.”

“What about you?” Jamie crossed his arms and hoisted an eyebrow. “Are
you
more interested in me than the art?”

“Hmm... let me think.” Eva tapped her chin as she pretended to consider his question. “I'm not sure.”

“I'm serious. Are you attracted to me?”

Eva threw back her head and cackled so loudly, she drew a few glances from passersby. “
Really
? I think I've made it painfully obvious. I'm more concerned about if
you
think
I'm
attractive. And if you do, I might have to check you for a fever. You'd have to be losing your mind.”

“I think you're a very attractive lady.”

Lady.
That word hovered in her mind, lingering like an echo. Every time he said that word, he made her feel old. For some reason,
woman
would have been so much better. She knew she was being sensitive and silly, but it bothered her. It was like being thirty all over again, when people started calling her “ma'am” instead of “miss.” Now she was fifty. Now she was an old
lady
.

Side by side, they journeyed through the museum, enjoying the arms and armor, the sarcophagi, African art, porcelain, and paintings by Pablo Picasso. There was so much to see at the Met, there was no way they could see it in a day. As they were exiting the museum, Eva said, “I can't remember the last time I went here. It's been so long, I barely remember any of it.”

“I've never been here.”

“Really?!” Her eyes were bulging. “But you've lived in New York for--”

“Seven years,” Jamie finished for her. “I moved here with my brother seven years ago.”

“Wow. Well... I'm glad that I was the one who finally got you to come.”

“I feel more cultured now.”

“You even look more cultured now,” Eva teased him. “ I can see the beginnings of a handlebar mustache growing on your face.”

“Wait... what?!” Jamie laughed. “Handlebar mustaches mean you're cultured?!”

“I think so.”

“I don't know about that. But if the George Armstrong Custer look gets you off, I might have to start growing a bushy beard.”

“Oooh. I can hardly wait. That sounds sexier than sexy.” Eva gave him a playful rap on the arm. “Well... I think I'm going to head back to my place. Do you want to come back with me?” When she saw Jamie's eyes swell, she quickly added, “I-I don't mean that in a sexy way. I was just wondering if you wanted to come back for coffee or something.”

“Damn.” Jamie snapped his fingers with an implied
aw shucks
. “And here I was hoping you
did
mean it in a sexy way.”

Eva almost wished she
did
mean it in a sexy way. As gorgeous as he was, it would be so easy to let herself fall for him. At the same time, it was impossible to let herself fall for him without feeling like a fool. “So, are you coming or not?”

“Of course.” Jaime would have followed her anywhere. When they were in the taxi, all he could think about was how bouncy her hair looked, how red her lips were, how good she smelled. His thoughts were consumed by her, and he wished he had the guts to move their relationship forward.

Tonight,
he promised himself.
I have to make a move tonight.

When they got to her apartment, Eva sat on the couch and crossed her legs. It was a simple gesture on her part, but it was enough to drive him crazy. Her skirt wasn't extremely short, but when her legs crossed, she revealed an ample amount of thick thigh. Her legs were perfect, enough for him to grab in his hands and squeeze. Eva had a wonderful body: not too skinny and certainly not fat. Her legs, thighs and hips were those of a woman, and it was a welcome change from all the chicken-legged models Jaime dated in the past. He could picture her legs wrapped around his head, squeezing him between her thighs.

At that moment, he was glad she couldn't read his mind.

“You've been here before,” Eva said, “so you know where everything is. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

Jaime swaggered toward her with his hands on his hips. “I'm more interested in what's on the couch.”

“Oh?” Eva's elbow was on her knee, and her head was resting in the palm of her hand.

“You have to be the sexiest woman alive.” He slipped behind the couch and planted his hands on her shoulders.

“Oh, please.”

“I'm serious. I've never seen someone sexier.” As he squeezed her shoulders, his thumbs caressed her neck. “I want you.”

“Mmm.” All she could manage was a moan. Every time his fingers pressed her skin, she could feel the tension leaving her body. His hands were encouraging her to abandon her reluctance. He must have been aware of the effect he had on her, because the massage lasted for several minutes. When he was done, he crossed the room and stood in front of her, ensuring she had a good view as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Jaime...”

“Eva.” He purred her name. He sat beside her on the couch, pulled her into his arms, and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I need you.”

“I--” What
she
needed was common sense. Deep down, she knew it wasn't a good idea to get involved with Jaime Thierry. If she slept with him, where could the relationship go? How long could it last? She and Jaime were destined for Nowheresville, and Eva wasn't the type of woman to indulge in a fling.

He bent his head toward her, treating himself to a first taste of her lips. His mouth was rough and urgent, yet soft. When his tongue flitted out and tickled her lip, Eva giggled like a girl being kissed for the first time. As he pulled her closer, his tongue became more adventurous. It dipped into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Eva couldn't deny she was immensely enjoying the kiss. She could have kissed him like that forever, but the voice in her head was persistent. It was the voice of reason, and it was too loud to ignore.

She tipped her head back, ending the kiss. Jaime's hands were in her hair, entwined in her chestnut locks. When she felt his lips travel to her jawline, and then to her neck, Eva closed her eyes. She couldn't let this happen, could she?

“Jaime.”

He ignored her. His mouth stayed on her neck, where it had located a freckle. He kissed the freckle again and again, and tapped it with his tongue.

“
Jaime
.” Her tone was more forceful this time. “We can't.
I
can't.”

When he pulled his head away from her, his brow was furrowed by disappointment. “What do you mean?”

“We can't do this. It's just not going to work.” She scooted down the couch, putting a bit of distance between them. “I really like you... I like you a lot. But I think it would be best if we just remained friends.”

“Are you serious?
That
wasn't a kiss between friends!” He felt like she was trying to make the situation more difficult than it needed to be. It could have been simple. It
should
have been simple. “We have passion, Eva. I know you feel it too.”

“Maybe.”

“
Maybe!
?” Jaime fell back on the couch and clutched his chest. “Eva, you're killing me!”

“I really, really do like you,” Eva repeated. “The problem isn't with you, it's just--”

“It's the fact that I'm younger than you,” Jaime finished with a sigh. “I don't see why it's such a big deal. We shouldn't let a few years stop us.”

“
A few years
?!” He downplayed it so much, Eva had to laugh. “It's more than a few years, Jaime. It's
twenty
years!”

“So? I don't care. And you shouldn't care either.” Jaime cupped her cheek and trickled his thumb along her cheekbone. “You really just want to be friends?”

What she really wanted was to rip his clothes off, but she settled on a “yes.”

He felt her resoluteness like a dagger to the heart. His confidence dissolved, his hope was dashed. Eva held his happiness in the palm of her hand, and now he was crushed. Devastated. “Friends isn't good enough for me.”

“Well, it will have to be good enough for you.” Eva didn't think he'd be too upset. He looked disappointed, but surely a man like Jaime Thierry had women beating down his door for a chance to be with him. She was just insignificant Eva Stanford. Maybe she posed a challenge, but she was nothing special. She knew he would move on, and quickly. Pasting on a smile, Eva rose from the couch and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Is there anything I can get you from the kitchen?”