Page 4 of Auctioned To Be Mine

“Yes. Jack. Hi. Thank you for coming.” I smiled and extended my hand, which he shook once. “Our reservation was at seven, so we may need to check in with the hostess about the table.”

“Traffic was insane,” he said, already moving toward the door.

It was not insane. And I knew damn well he could have been on time. I was on time. Everyone else that had a reservation was on time. He didn’t make our dinner date a priority. It was an afterthought. I hoped Betty understood that this was probably a futile mission. This was not a guy that gave a shit about sick kids and their families.

“It won’t be a problem,” he said and pulled open the door.

I followed him inside. The hostess looked up from her stand to greet us and nearly choked on her own tongue. She coughed, sputtered, eyes watering, cheeks burning, and held up a hand in apology.

Jack looked down at me and grinned. His smile was disturbingly white. “I get this a lot from women.”

“Uh huh,” I said.

“Jack Montana.” The hostess had mostly recovered. Her cheeks were still red as she used her thumbs to dab under her eyes, careful not to ruin her makeup. “Wow. I mean, hi. Welcome. Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess.” Nervous laughter poured out of her.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, surprising me with nice manners. ”We had a table at seven, but I got held up.” He leaned in and looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. If there was ever a snake charmer, it was him. She swayed as if hypnotized by his good looks. I rolled my eyes straight up to the ceiling.

“I was hoping you still had a table for us,” Jack said.

“Of course!” She led us through the dining room and I took the chance to mentally rehearse my pitch to Jack. Then I made the mistake of glancing to my right.

Him. The man from outside. The unapologetic bulldozer. My rear end still ached from hitting the pavement.

He sat at a table near a window with a pretty woman across from him. He glanced over just as I was walking by. We made eye contact. I glared at him but he flashed me an infuriating grin. There was no apology in it, just smug arrogance.

Damn him.

He didn’t care he bowled me over and laid me out on the sidewalk. No fucks to give. He was rich and handsome and some woman standing in his way was not his problem. I glared at him, something I knew how to do very well. I was raised with rich, mean girls. Glaring and sneering were an art form.

That only made him smile more.

Damn, I wished I had a plate of food or a glass of wine. I would absolutely dump it over his handsome head. Those stupid green eyes and thick, long lashes. That annoyingly sexy black hair that looked like silk and sat perfectly on his stupid head with no product. And that damn square jaw and broad shoulders.

Stupid handsome men. They were all on my shit list tonight.

I looked away first, raised my chin, and did my best to look annoyed and aloof.

“Here you go,” the hostess said.

She wasn’t looking at me. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if she knew I was in the room.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Jack said and took a seat. “Hey, can we get a bottle of wine? House best.”

“Of course.” The hostess blushed and filled our waters. “I’ll have it sent right out.”

Okay, I’m supposed to be paying for the dinner. I did not have it in the budget for the best of anything. The meal tonight was already a stretch. House best? How much was that going to cost? Five hundred? A thousand?

Oh God, Betty was going to murder me.

“I’m really glad we could make this work. I know your schedule is⁠—”

“I had a thing run long,” he said. “Documentary thing. Very intense.”

“Of course.” I took a sip of water. “Well, I appreciate you being here. The auction is coming up fast and we’re really excited about the lineup this year.” I had practiced this spiel a hundred times. I knew numbers and facts and was ready to plead my case. “We have big plans for⁠—”

“Is the salmon good here?” He studied the menu in his hands.

“I haven’t been before, so I’m not sure.” For a hundred and seventy-six dollars, the salmon better be spectacular. “As I was saying, the ask is genuinely minimal. A dinner, two hours maximum, with whoever wins the auction. We can arrange security if that’s something you’d want on-site, and the press we generate beforehand is entirely in your control⁠—”