The Bachelor Bid

The Bachelor Bid
Kate Denton

And the winner is… The one woman who didn't bid!Cara Breedon is facing her biggest career challenge to date–to convince impossible, attractive and eminently eligible bachelor Wyatt McCauley to auction himself off for charity. Cara has tried every trick she knows, but Wyatt won't say yes.Underneath, Wyatt is intrigued by Cara and, little does she know, she's beginning to wear him down. He definitely wants to see more of her. All he has to do is agree to appear in the auction and place an exorbitant bid in her name so that Cara wins the prize–a weekend with Wyatt!

“You look beautiful. Every guy in the place is going to be praying you win him. Except me, of course.” (#u84a111a1-1721-5309-87d5-482e1af16c76)About the Author (#uc8f22efc-692e-5a64-859f-11d1d501d72e)Title Page (#u79a89b8c-14a1-5b0a-8838-636c82edc6fb)CHAPTER ONE (#ue348813f-c84b-59d7-b476-207e21f0ecba)CHAPTER TWO (#u96406a40-1a9a-5760-97e0-94dbe7b2abf0)CHAPTER THREE (#u5e5b99ed-b6e9-5cb4-800c-7e87f6995014)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“You look beautiful. Every guy in the place is going to be praying you win him. Except me, of course.”

“Did you just compliment and insult me in the same sentence?”

“Not at all. I excluded myself from the prayerful because you said you couldn’t afford me. Did you get all dolled up just to watch the bidding on me? I’m touched. Especially when you could have had a date for free.”

“Actually, I was considering bidding.... A dollar seemed a good estimation of your value. Then again...who knows? I might win. Decided it wasn’t worth the risk.”

Kate Denton is a pseudonym for the Texas writing team of Carolyn Hake and Jeanie Lambright. Friends as well as co-authors, they concur for the most part on politics and good Mexican restaurants, but disagree about men—tall versus short—and what constitutes good weather sun versus showers. One thing they do agree on, though, is the belief that romance is not just for the young!

The Bachelor Bid

Kate Denton

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

CARA BREEDON had reached the door of her boss’s office, about to make her exit, when Brooke Abbott’s voice halted her in her tracks. “By the way...any progress with Wyatt McCauley?”

Give me strength—not McCauley again! To Cara, the name was starting to grate like nails on a chalkboard. Just to get through one day—even one morning—without hearing that name, that question. No such luck. “Not much headway yet,” Cara reluctantly answered.

“Then you’ve got to get cracking, Cara. I want Wyatt McCauley.”

Tell me something I don’t know. Ever since Brooke’s designation as chair of her sorority’s celebrity bachelor auction, she’d fixated on the idea of computer magnate McCauley as the star attraction. Having delegated to Cara, her secretary, the task of making her fixation a reality, Brooke had reserved for herself the chore of spewing out reminders and demanding updates.

Brooke would have gone after McCauley herself if it hadn’t been for the fact her firm, Brooke Abbott Advertising, had just signed its biggest client to date.

The curse of good fortune meant that all of Brooke’s energies had to be directed toward the new client.

Still, she somehow managed to eke out a few minutes each day to yank Cara’s chain about McCauley. For the past two weeks every other sentence from Brooke had been “Wyatt-this, Wyattthat.” With each new mention of him, Cara’s suspicions became that much firmer that when Brooke said she wanted the man, she wasn’t talking only about the auction. She wanted Wyatt McCauley, period. And she wanted him bad. Were it within Cara’s power, she’d deliver him—gift-wrapped or hog-tied if necessary—just to get Brooke off her case.

Landing McCauley wasn’t the first difficult project Cara had been handed, but it was proving to be the most exasperating. As she drove home from the office Cara tried to keep in mind that Brooke was a generous employer, paying top dollar to her staff. In return she expected lots of late evenings and Saturdays, plus a myriad of personal tasks that had nothing to do with company business. On the whole, Cara didn’t mind. It wasn’t unusual for a company owner to throw in such additional duties. If it meant pleasing the boss, she could tolerate picking up her dry cleaning and doing the grunt work for a favorite Abbott charity. All in all, Cara had few complaints. Few complaints, that is, until the day Brooke first uttered the words “auction” and “McCauley” in the same sentence. Now the job was turning into a gigantic headache.

The problem was Wyatt McCauley wasn’t cooperating. For the past ten days, Cara had called his office only to find him unavailable each time. Just yesterday she tried again, surprised when she’d been put straight through to the man himself.

“Cara Breedon, Mr. McCauley. Thank you for taking my call,” she had begun.

“No problem,” McCauley had answered cordially. “It’s been such a hectic day, I welcome an excuse to escape the pile of work on my desk—now you’ve given me one.”

They’d chatted amiably for a minute or so before he pressed the point. “And what may I do for you, Ms. Breedon?”

There had been no innuendo in his soft Texas accent, but still Cara could just imagine what he could do. The voice alone was enough to help Cara understand Brooke’s fanatical interest.

“I’m recruiting participants on behalf of Brooke Abbott, chair of the Rosemund bachelor auction. You’re probably aware that the auction benefits—”

A loud sigh had stopped her spiel. “Ms. Breedon, too bad you’ve wasted your time and mine. As I’ve told your auction gang repeatedly, I don’t do that sort of thing. Good day.” The line had clicked off.

Cara remembered staring at the receiver by then humming with a dial tone. She had been tempted to dial McCauley back and tell him just what she thought of his manners. He’d been so nice at first until she...until she’d taken advantage of his accessibility with a sales pitch, one he’d apparently heard once too often. Grudgingly Cara had admitted that yes, he did have the right to cut her off.

But, darn it, she thought now, she had to have this man and she’d keep after him until he said yes. Somehow she needed to make him understand that the auction wasn’t “that sort of thing” but an important fund-raiser for a worthy cause.

It was either keep after McCauley or report failure to Brooke. And at the moment, she’d do anything to avoid such a scenario. Caught between the new bigfish client and the fast-approaching auction, Brooke was so uptight she might commit hara-kiri—or ask Cara to.

The next morning Cara called McCauley’s office again. The assistant said the CEO was tied up and couldn’t speak with her. Cara left a message asking that he ring her back. Three days passed with no return call.

Casting about for a different approach, Cara decided to adopt a marketing strategy, beginning with the gift of a bright-red, limited-edition sports cap publicizing the auction. Along with the cap went a letter explaining the cause it benefited—the Rosemund Learning Center for disadvantaged children.

Neither the cap nor the letter elicited a response, so Cara followed up with a tie—special delivery from the Neiman-Marcus flagship store in Dallas. The enclosed card said she hoped to “tie up his support for the auction.” Still no reaction.

After the tie, which she now envisioned twisted tightly around his neck, Cara tried sending Wyatt lunch from her favorite Mexican restaurant, having heard through the grapevine that he was an aficionado of Austin’s heralded “Tex-Mex” cuisine.

Since targeting his head and neck had proved unsuccessful, Cara was aiming lower, following the adage that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. The lunch, with an accompanying written plea nestled among the dessert of pecan pralines, proved a washout as well. No contact. No “Thank you very much, the food was delicious.” No anything. Cara’s murderous thoughts were multiplying.

With Brooke badgering her relentlessly, Cara opted for another telephone call. She was informed “a check is in the mail.” Cara mouthed a silent expletive. McCauley could send over his entire fortune in an armored truck and it wouldn’t get Brooke off her back. He was missing the point here.

The check arrived—a substantial contribution—along with a terse, typed note that he simply wasn’t interested in taking part. Maybe the poor guy thought that if he put it in writing, the message would finally get through.

Cara suffered another twinge of conscience. She’d been so zealous carrying out Brooke’s mandate that she’d overlooked the fact she was practically harassing this man. Wyatt McCauley probably thought her and everyone associated with the auction a collection of crazies who couldn’t grasp the simple meaning of “no.” In fact, she’d begun questioning her own sanity for continuing this ridiculous campaign rather than pleading with Brooke to give up or assign the job to someone else. But no telling how a stressed-out Brooke would react to such a request.

Having tried everything she could think of short of plotting a kidnapping, Cara decided to seek out the lion in his lair. If she showed up in person she could appeal to his sensitive side—assuming that he had one—and perhaps persuade him to reconsider.

Wyatt’s lair was an office in downtown Austin, not far from the state capitol. As she drove by in her aging Volkswagen Jetta, Cara noticed the trees now in full bloom, the capitol grounds teeming with cameratoting tourists and nearby office workers out for a breath of fresh spring air.

She managed to find a parking space, deposited several coins in the meter, and started toward Wyatt’s building. On the way she spotted a florist on the corner. Flowers? What the heck, this was a go-for-broke mission. She entered the store.

“A dozen of the yellow roses, please...no, make that two dozen.” Brooke had told her to do whatever was necessary. Perhaps the flowers would help sway the man...or at least gain her entrance to his inner sanctum.

“Cara Breedon to see Mr. McCauley.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Ms. Breedon.” The woman, Frances Peters, Executive Assistant—according to the nameplate on the desk—was courteous and efficient, but offering no encouragement. Still, Cara could have sworn there was a hint of amusement in her expression as she eyed the cellophane-wrapped roses. “I believe Mr. McCauley has made—”

“Frances—oh, excuse me, I didn’t know you had someone with you.” He turned to Cara. “May I cut in a minute, miss?” Without waiting for assent, he turned back to the assistant. “I need the time difference between here and Melbourne.”

“I’ll look it up.” Frances Peters swiveled toward a bookcase and removed an almanac.

“Sorry,” he said, focusing his attention on Cara as Frances studied the almanac.

This was Wyatt McCauley. No wonder Brooke was in such a dither over the man. Cara had seen pictures of him in the business and society pages, but while the grainy photos had shown a handsome man, they’d failed to capture the essence. The nondescript eyes shown in the pictures were actually a heat-seeking brown, his dark hair as glossy as a raven’s wing, and the wide apologetic smile now directed her way seemed capable of illuminating a room, maybe a football field. McCauley might have made his mark in computers, but this was no stereotypical computer nerd.

He was coatless, starched white shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow, navy pin-striped trousers and... well—what do you know?—her tie. Score one for her side. She knew she was staring—gawking, actually—but then, he was giving her the once-over, too.

No doubt less impressed than she. Wyatt McCauley was a ten, a ten plus, and she... six might be stretching it somewhat. Certainly Cara couldn’t compete in the McCauley league, not with the glamorous women he squired around.