The Date Auction (10 page)

“I don't think so. We've been on two dates now.” He saw Samantha's gaze return to him, so he winked at her too. “You're more than a friend to me.”

“Oh, Jamie...” Another peal of nervous laughter rippled from Eva's throat. At the moment, nervous laughter was the only reaction she could manage. “You're so silly.” She wondered if Sam was going to mention this debacle to their seventy-five-year-old mother.

“I don't think it's silly.”

Jamie looked genuinely hurt by the fact that she was downplaying their acquaintance. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she needed to change her tune. “No. No, it's not. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” Jamie yawned again, as if to demonstrate how well he had rested.

“This is my sister, Samantha, by the way.”

“I gathered as much.”

“And this is my friend, Cathy.” She pointed at her friend in the corner, whose eyes were dancing with amusement as she soaked in the sight of Eva's boy toy.

“It's nice to meet you both.” He ran a hand through his cocoa brown hair, which was messy from sleep, but even more appealing in its adorably disheveled state.

“It looks like you might be busy, Eva,” her sister noted. “Are we still going to go out for breakfast?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course.”

“Your friend is more than welcome to come,” Cathy added. She had a hopeful grin on her face as her eyes devoured the young man in the room.

“Oh, I'm sure Jamie has better things to do than hang out with the three of us,” Eva said. “Right?”

It was obvious she didn't want him there, so Jamie let her have her way. “I don't have anything better to do, but I'm not a big fan of breakfast, so I'll pass. Besides, I'm supposed to be meeting my brother for lunch, believe it or not. I'm not sure if that'll happen because he's got a new girlfriend who's been monopolizing his time.” He let his eyes wander back to Eva. “With any luck, maybe I'll have a girlfriend who will monopolize
my
time.”

“And she'll be very, very lucky.”

“I was referring to you.”

“I... know.” Eva was wincing inwardly. The more he hovered around and chatted, the more ridiculous she felt.

“So... a third date, then?” Jamie suggested. “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

“Of course. That sounds good.”

“I'll let you pick the place.” Jamie bowed his head to the ladies as he headed in the direction of the door. “Hopefully it won't rain again.”

“Yeah. Let's hope.” Eva lifted a hand and gave him an apathetic wave. “Bye, Jamie.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

As Jamie slipped through the door, Eva could feel her heart melting. No matter how ridiculous she felt in front of her friends, it was nice to hear him call her
sweetheart.

When Jamie was gone, she immediately turned to Samantha and blurted, “I can explain this.”

“Really?” Samantha leaned against the wall and raised an eyebrow. “You can explain why you had a hot, young, half-naked man on your couch? I have to hear this.”

“And they're dating, apparently,” Cathy pointed out. “If I can get myself one of
those
, I should grab a pen and paper and take notes.”

“Really, it's not what you think. It's not how it looks!” Eva collapsed on the couch, where Jamie had recently been slumbering. In fact, his blanket was still warm. “I went to an auction a few days ago, and--”

“You bought
him
?” Cathy gasped. “Is he some kind of gigolo?!”

“No! God, no... he's a model. They were auctioning off dates with celebrities, and I ended up winning a date with Jamie.”

“Hmm. I thought he looked familiar...” Cathy mused.

“And that doesn't really explain why you've been on
two
dates with him,” her sister pointed out.

Eva shrugged. “I don't really understand that myself. After our first date, I didn't expect to see him again. But then he showed up yesterday and asked me out again. I have no idea why he'd waste his time with me, but there he was...”

“How old is he?!” It was her sister who asked that all-important question. “Or, should I say, how
young
is he?”

“He's thirty-one.” Even her sister, who had just turned forty-seven, must have thought that sounded young.

“Why was he sleeping on your couch?” her sister continued to pry. “Oh my god, you're not having sex with him, are you?”

“No. And even if I was, it wouldn't be any of your business. I can do whatever I want.” Eva looked at Cathy, who gave her a reassuring nod.

“You're not
going
to have sex with him, are you?!”

“I don't plan on it.” Why did her sister make her feel like she was on trial? “And if you really need an explanation, I let him spend the night on my couch because it was raining all night last night.”

Cathy grinned at her friend. “You should have let him sleep in your bed.”

“Cathy!” Sam gasped. “You shouldn't encourage this kind of thing! Eva should know better than to get involved with a
baby
!”

“He's not a baby. He's thirty-one,” Eva defended him.

“And that would make
you
a cradle robber.”

“God, Sam, you really need to lighten up.” Eva ran a hand through her hair. When her fingers were snagged by several tangles, she realized what a mess she was. She doubted her bedhead was even half as attractive as Jamie's. “It's not like it's serious. I'm just having a bit of fun.”

“Well...” Sam took a deep breath as she teetered closer to acceptance. “As long as you know it's not serious, it's okay. I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

“I'm not stupid.” Eva leaned back and smiled at her sister, hoping to soften her a bit. “Honestly... do you think you would have said no if Jamie asked
you
out on a date?”

“Well...” When Samantha turned to Cathy, she was chastised by her friend's raised eyebrow. “I guess not.”

“Well then... leave me alone. It's
my
business,” Eva reminded her again. “Sure, I have my reservations, but...”

“But...
what
?” her sister pressed.

“But I like him,” Eva said. “I like him, and that's that.”

Chapter Eleven

Cora couldn't believe her life. Harry Shaw, the man of her fantasies, was standing in front of her again. And this time, he wasn't coming out of obligation. He had actually accepted her invitation for coffee.

“Hi.” Cora tucked an errant tendril of her strawberry hair behind her ear at least three times. It kept springing back into place, framing her cheek.

“Hello there.” When he saw her approaching, Harry flicked his cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it beneath his boot. Cora wasn't too crazy about his smoking habit, but it was something she could learn to tolerate. “It's good to see you again.”

It's good to see you again. It's good to see you again. It's good to see you again.
His words resounded in her head like an echo. She felt like she was living in a dream. “I'm glad you decided to come.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled at her. “So, where are we going?”

“Um... well.” She couldn't think of a good coffee shop to save her life. “Is Starbucks okay?”

“Starbucks is fine.”

“Okay... well, um...” Cora's ability to speak eloquently was slaughtered the moment he arrived. “There's one just down the street from here.”

“Here in the States, it seems like there's a Starbucks on every corner.”

“That's probably true.” She started heading in the direction of the nearest Starbucks. In the corner of her eye, she could see Harry walking beside her. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but also of musky cologne. If she had to describe how he smelled, Cora would have described it as
sex in a bottle
.

“I rarely drink coffee, so I'll follow your recommendation.”

“Oh.” She wished she would have invited him out for something better than coffee, but it was the first platonic thing that sprang into her head. “Do you like tea better? I mean... because you're British and everything.”

“I
do
prefer tea. However, I find that it's impossible to get a good cup of tea on this side of the pond.”

“I could make you a cup of tea,” Cora suggested. When she tried to imagine him coming back to her apartment for tea, her head swelled with dizzying thoughts.

“I should be brave and try the coffee.”

“O... kay.” Cora examined him in the corner of her eye. Even his profile was perfection. His face was pale and his skin was perfect, like marble. His cheekbones were high and sharp, as if a master sculpture had created him, but his jawline was stronger than Michaelangelo's David. His nose was pointy and his nostrils were a bit too big, but she loved his nose. She loved everything about him.

When they were just a block away from Starbucks, they were approached by a wild-looking old man with a salt and pepper beard. His flannel shirt was riddled with holes, and he was extending a styrofoam cup in their direction, which could only mean one thing.

Harry's protective instincts kicked in. He took Cora by the arm and proceeded to steer her out of the old man's path.

But Cora had other plans. She had already unzipped her purse and was digging around for her wallet.

“Can you spare some change?” the old man's voice sounded like quintessential Santa Claus, which made her even more compelled to help him. She reached into her wallet and pulled out a ten dollar bill.

“Here.” She held it out to him.

When he saw the face of Alexander Hamilton, the old man's wild eyes were even wilder. “Really?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“God bless you, dear,” he praised her. “You have a wonderful day.”

Harry, who was still holding onto Cora's arm, was practically dragging her away from the old man. “That was really nice of you. Nicer than most people,” Harry said. “Most people would just lower their eyes and walk on.”

“I felt sorry for him.” Cora shrugged.

“Ten dollars for the homeless man... ten
thousand
dollars for me...” Harry was shaking his head with disbelief. He still couldn't believe anyone would think his time was that valuable. “You must be a successful romance writer.”

“No, not really. My mom always said I don't think before I spend. She's probably right,” Cora said with a sigh. “I guess I can be pretty frivolous with what little money I do have.”

“Well, I
do
think that was very sweet of you, giving money to a homeless man.” Harry turned in her direction and flashed a smile that could melt hearts. Especially Cora's heart. How on earth was she supposed to survive this day with her heart intact?

A minute later, Harry and Cora arrived at the Starbucks. Outside, a young man with long, stringy hair was singing Nirvana's “Smells like Teen Spirit,” but he had slowed it down so much, the song was barely recognizable. To make matters worse, he was strumming his guitar in such a way as to suggest he had no idea what a chord was.

“
I feel stoooooooopid... and contayayayaygeous
...”

“Only in New York City,” Cora whispered to Harry.

“I don't know about that. There's rampant madness in London,” Harry corrected her. “You never know what treasures you might see in Covent Garden.”

“A mulaaaaato... an al... bi... nooooo.”

When they were standing in front of the counter at Starbucks, Harry looked lost. He rapped his knuckles against his chin as he tried to make sense of the menu.

“I think you're going to have to help me, Cora. What should I get?”

“That depends. What do you like?”

“That's the problem. I have absolutely no idea what I like.” The barista behind the counter was staring blankly at Harry, which wasn't helping him make a decision. “I don't know the lingo. I think I might be rubbish at this.”

“My personal favorite is the Vanilla Frappuccino.”

“That sounds tolerable.”

“It's more than tolerable, it's good,” Cora insisted. “Do you want me to order one for you too, or do you--”

“
Harry
.” A voice from behind, a woman's voice, abruptly ended their conversation. When they turned around, they were greeted by the smiling face of a pretty black girl. Her glossy black hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, her lips were plump and plum, and her mocha skin was faultless.

Cora knew who she was looking at, and she knew enough about Harry's personal life to know it wasn't a good thing. The girl standing in front of them was none other than Natasha Mbadinuju, one of Harry's ex-girlfriends, who he had dated for at least three years.

One of his exes, standing in front of them. What were the odds? Cora suddenly felt tempted to slink behind the counter and die.

“Natasha!” Harry exclaimed. “Wow.
Wow
.” He repeated the word twice, most likely because he was stunned by how beautiful she looked. Natasha's cheeks were glowing, as if they had been kissed by dewdrops. Her eyes, as black as ink, were bright and penetrating.

Cora felt small and insignificant. She knew she could never compare to such beauty.

“How strange is it that we would run into each other?” Natasha said, in a British accent thicker than Harry's. It was strange hearing her natural accent. Cora was used to seeing Natasha on television, where she frequently faked an American accent. “And in New York, of all places.”

“It
is
strange,” Harry agreed. “Wow, you look great. Stunning.”

Wonderful
, Cora thought.
He's out on a date with me, and he's complimenting another woman.
Well... maybe it
wasn't
a date, but Cora wanted to believe it was.

“Congratulations on your recent success,” Natasha said. “You really deserve it.”

“As do you.”

“I haven't been nearly as successful as you,” Natasha countered.

“Don't be silly. You've been successful longer than I have. You're all over the place, Tash.”

Tash.
Cora wanted to cringe when she heard Harry call her by a nickname.
Any moment now,
Cora assured herself,
any moment now, he's going to introduce me to Natasha, at which point I will no longer feel like an insignificant bystander. Any moment now, they'll stop pretending I'm not even here. Any moment now, Harry will remember I'm standing here.