Lust, Lies and Tinsel Ties

He watched as Carson threaded through the crowd and toward the front of the room where Grace Walker was holding court with what was left of the partiers. He whispered in her ear, then took the center stage himself while Grace stepped to the side.

“Jake and I certainly want to thank each and every one of you for coming this evening, particularly with this unexpected weather,” he began. “Who would have thought? Snow on Christmas Eve in Albuquerque?”

The crowd chuckled, and he continued. “But the evening is long, and I just heard that law enforcement is recommending people get home and stay off the roads. We want you to use your own judgment. Know that we have guest accommodations here for anyone who would rather not travel home this evening. But for those of you who are eager to leave, we have one more item up for auction.”

He paused and scanned the room. Jake’s gut tightened.

“You may have noticed our lovely cocktail waitresses this evening.” He pointed toward the bar at the back of the room; Jake followed his direction and bristled. Bree and her business partner-Ginger? He hadn’t really focused much on her-they were busying themselves behind it cleaning up. Both of their heads lifted, and they nodded as the crowd turned their way. Ginger smiled broadly. Bree gave a slight smile and glanced off. “In case you didn’t know,” Carson went on, “these generous ladies are the owners of Conner & Baker Realty. They volunteered their time this evening. All of the tips they earned,” he glanced back over the crowd, “from all of you generous people, will be donated to the homeless shelter. Let’s hear it for our sexy servers!”

The crowd clapped madly.

“Come up here! Come!” Carson waved toward the women.

Jake wondered what in hell Carson was up to.

The last thing Bree wanted at the moment was to parade herself in front of all the party-goers and Jake Baldwin and Carson Graham. Could people tell how distracted and turned on she was by him? Them? Shit, yes, there was Carson too, with whom she’d been making eyes all evening…and who had slipped his finger up her dress earlier, taunting her.

Talk about libido confusion. Seemed like they all had it. At the moment, she didn’t trust her sexual psyche.

But here she was, being pushed from behind the bar to the center of attention by a giggling Ginger. “Move it, honey. This is the part we’ve been waiting for.”

Bree stopped and grasped Ginger’s arm. “What are you talking about?”

“No time now.”

“Yes. Time. Now.”

“The crowd is watching.”

“I don’t give a flying fucking leap! Tell me what is going on.”

Ginger huffed, her eyes darting back and forth. Leaning closer, she whispered, “Just shut up and follow my lead. It’s for the shelter. We’re getting auctioned.”

“We?” Panic seized her chest. “Auctioned?”

“Yes.”

“The company, right?”

“No. You. Me.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s not part of the deal. Not unless you want it to be.” She grinned slyly. “Seriously, we just donate twenty-four hours of our time to whoever buys us. I’m sure it will be shelter-related, or something like that.”

“Dammit, Ginger! You knew this ahead of time?”

“Yes. Now, shut up and smile. You’re on first.”

Ginger Baker, I will make you freakin’ pay! If the truth be known, Bree was glad for the anger that raced over her at that moment. It replaced the confused sexual crap that was rolling around in her head seconds earlier.

The crowd cheered and clapped wildly again, and suddenly Bree found herself being catapulted forward into the throng, and before she knew it, was standing on an ottoman and Grace Walker was saying…

“May I have five thousand, please?”

As they used to say back home in Southern Ohio, What. The. Hell?

Five thousand!

“I’ll give you seven.” Bree’s head whipped to a voice in the corner. She couldn’t see from where it came.

“Eight.” She jerked to the left. A woman’s voice. Crap.

“Ten thousand.” Back to the right. Carson.

Carson?

He grinned at her. Her chest heaved. Oh, fuck…

“Twelve,” came the voice from the shadows again.

Sonofabitch!

Grace Walker twittered in delight beside her. Bree scowled and clenched her fists. What in the world was she going to have to do to earn this much money?

“Fifteen thousand.” Carson put in.

“Twenty.” The woman again.

“Twenty-five,” came from the corner.

The crowd jittered, individual heads rotating back and forth, straining to see the man in the shadows who was topping every bid made. After a moment, they all turned their attention back to Carson.

As did Bree. Her guts trembled.

Carson grinned. “Thirty thousand,” he said coolly and winked.

The room fell silent. Waiting. Anticipating the countering voice from the back of the room, or from the left. But one never came.

Her chest was tight from holding her breath for too long.

Grace Walker stepped between Carson and Bree, and it seemed the entire room exhaled. As did Bree. Finally. “Thirty thousand dollars! Oh, my! Going once. Twice. Sold!”

The dizzying thought Bree had at that moment, was that her roughly seven hundred dollars in tips seemed mighty paltry. Why in the hell had she spent all night on her feet-in these heels!-to bring in tips if this was going to happen?

I’m killing Ginger…

Grace hugged Bree who stood stiff and unmoving, eyeing Carson, who appeared quite pleased with himself. He stepped up and shook Grace’s hand, then reached for Bree’s elbow. “Come with me,” he whispered.

The crowed oohed and clapped. Bree tried to shut them out.

Behind her, she heard Grace begin the bidding on Ginger. She hoped Ted had deep pockets, if he expected to get any tonight.

Her hand felt small and warm in Carson’s as he led her out of the room and into a low-lit hallway. Immediately, she felt flushed. They walked in silence for a few seconds, the only sound was Bree’s boot heels making a soft click on the tile floor.

“Where are you taking me,” she finally said. Her tummy was filled with a thousand butterflies. What was in store for her?

“Just down here. So we can talk.”

They passed a fully decorated Christmas tree, a few artsy structures, and some pottery on their way to… wherever. She supposed they needed to iron out the deals of her twenty-four hour servitude. “Okay, so what is it you have in mind for me, boss man?”

He didn’t answer. They turned a corner and faced massive, carved, double oak doors. They swung open with ease as he turned the knobs and led her into the room.

Bedroom. A very large bedroom.

A very large and masculine chamber of love was more like it.

She stopped short. “Um, Carson. I don’t think this is what the shelter people had in mind when they thought of this slave auction thing…” Although she had to admit, glancing about, that the room intrigued her.

“No worries, love,” he said, “We’re just in a holding pattern here for a moment, so to speak.”

He led her further into the room.

A huge oak bed, which echoed the carved design of the doors, sat regally in the center of the room. Four