Underneath It All

“So,” Stella added. “Have you got your eye on a consolation prize?” She motioned toward a tall blonde near the stage. “That hunk over there looks appetizing. They say he owns a construction company. He’s not quite as handsome as Devon Bradshaw, but he could certainly build you your dream house.”

“Actually,” Nicole replied. “I’m done bidding.” She shoved the notepad at Penny. “Keep track of the auction for me. I’m getting a drink.”

She didn’t ask Eve to join her, needing instead to get away from everyone and clear the garbage from her mind. This whole situation was ridiculous at best. It was bad enough moping over losing a date with Devon. Allowing a local gossipmonger to make her feel even worse tipped the scale to absurd.

Since when had men become such a prized commodity anyway? They came a dime a dozen and she could get any one she wanted without having to fork out thousands of dollars. So she’d come across a guy she found attractive. Big whoop. It wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

And as soon as she convinced herself of all that, she’d be fine.

She found one seat available at the bar, slid into it and calmed herself while the bartender finished with his other orders and came down toward her end.

He slid a cocktail napkin in front of her. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a glass of chardonnay.”

Nodding, the man turned, poured her glass and set it on the napkin. “That’s eight-fifty.”

She reached into her purse, but before she could pull out her wallet, a familiar low drawl sounded over her shoulder.

“It’s on me.”

One masculine hand slid a twenty across the bar, and when she followed it up to the man attached, she found herself staring squarely at two stunning blue eyes.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. If Devon Bradshaw had been handsome from across the room, he was doubly attractive just inches from her nose. His broad chest was wider than she’d noted before, the dimple in his cheek deeper, and the blue of his eyes so vivid they were nearly violet. He leaned against the bar, the motion stretching the dress shirt under his opened suit jacket and relieving any doubt that what lay underneath was one solid mass of chiseled joy.

She fought a gut instinct to reach out and touch him, opting instead to take a breath, and what she got was a lungful of fresh, woodsy aftershave that drugged her thoughts of everything but him…naked.

“Thank you” was all she could say, and even that came out slightly hoarse.

His smile broadened. “Considering what you almost paid for a date, this is the least I could do.”

Clearing her throat, she took a sip of her wine, then managed to utter, “Almost.”

He slid his empty glass across the bar and motioned to the bartender for another. “Well, it’s better you didn’t win the bid. I’d rather take you on a date free of charge.”

She blinked then blinked again. “Take me on a date?”

“If you’ll let me.”

The way he flashed that smile, that eager boyish grin, she doubted any woman could turn down his request—doubted any of them had.

He held out a hand. “I’m Devon Bradshaw.”

Taking it in hers, the warmth of his grasp sent a spray of tingles over her skin, and she now realized for certain that all the silly doubts she’d had about him during the auction amounted to nothing more than her own paranoia. His manner was too genuine, the heat too temperate.

She had, for certain, blown the opportunity to take the date she wanted, the date that should have been hers. It was a mistake she wouldn’t make a second time.

“Nicole Reavis.”

“Nicole,” he repeated, letting the word roll over his tongue as if he was trying it on for size. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Um,” she started, getting back to the subject at hand. “I thought you already had a date.” She scanned the room for Cruella. The woman had just forked out three grand for the man. Wasn’t it somewhat rude for him to be here buying her drinks?

Devon jerked his thumb toward the auction. “She’s moved on to her next acquisition.”

Nicole gaped. “She’s bidding on someone else?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Abbey’s an old…friend, a real estate broker with some strange ideas on how to drum up new business.”

Nicole searched the crowd and sure enough, Cru—er, Abbey, was back at the auction bidding on the next guy.

“So she’s—”

“Nothing more than a friend,” Devon said. “What I’d really like to do is get out of this fish tank and spend my evening with the woman I am interested in.” Taking her hand, he brushed his thumb over the back of her fingers. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

She glanced at the crowd and at Eve and Penny, who’d somehow managed to ditch Stella Graves. She really shouldn’t leave them here to deal with work alone. Although, on the other hand, they’d already accomplished what they’d come for and that was to meet with the organizers and get a sense of the auction. Even taking notes on the bidding results had been overkill since she probably could obtain the information from the organizers. They’d been so excited about the additional publicity of being on Eve’s show, they were willing to hand over anything they needed.

But still, the three women were here together, and though they’d taken separate cars—

She stopped.

She took a breath then wondered what the hell she was doing. Had she learned nothing tonight?

Closing her eyes briefly, she vowed that for the rest of the evening, there would be no more doubts, no more suspicions and no more questioning every turn she made. Her sexy bachelor was offering her the second chance to let her hair down and have a good time.

So without giving another second’s thought to what she should or shouldn’t do, she turned to Devon, smiled and said, “Yes. I’d love that.”

DEVON SHIFTED IN HIS seat for the third time since they’d taken a table at Portobano’s restaurant a few blocks from the auction. As if this wonderful evening needed anything more, his dinner with Nicole answered the age-old question: It was possible to get a hard-on just watching a woman eat.

Advertisers had been attempting the feat for years, running with the assumption that sex can sell anything from cars to sloppy burgers. Up until now, he hadn’t bought it. But for an hour now, Devon’s dick strained every time she slid that fork in her mouth and licked those luscious pink lips.

And it didn’t help that she found the meal delectable. When she’d taken that first bite of her lobster raviolis, her expression rolled into that of divine pleasure, a blissful look that he could only imagine seeing between the sheets, under his naked body, after he’d sent her over the brink into ecstasy.

She did the same thing with the green beans, the bite of steak he offered, his mashed potatoes and everything else he could convince her to taste. He needed to back off before she either caught on or he succumbed to his desire to duck under the table and move on to dessert.

“So you’ve just got the one brother,” he said in a valiant attempt to get his mind out of his pants and onto the beautiful woman seated with him.

“Yep, it’s just me and Nate,” she said. “He’s still in San Francisco.”

“And what had you packing your bags and moving across the country if all your family’s out west?”

“I was looking for a change of pace. Experience the world, kind of thing.”

There was a blankness to the statement that made it sound canned, but Devon didn’t press. Maybe she’d just been asked the question a lot. It wasn’t every day a television producer moved from a big market like San Francisco to a city half its size to take on a show even smaller than that.

As she brought another bite of ravioli to her mouth, he asked, “And how do you like Atlanta so far?” prompting her to stop.

She considered for a moment then said with resolve, “It’s good to get away.”