“Okay. Let’s have it.”
“I’d like you to move in with me. Keep your house,” he said quickly, as she opened her mouth to object. “That’s your failsafe. But let’s see where this goes. If you want to, that is.”
She gave him a slow, lazy smile. “I think that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. So what kind of list do you have?”
“First, I’m taking you to The Towers for their Sunday champagne brunch-”
“Everyone you know will see you there with me,” she interrupted.
“That’s the plan,” he told her. “Then we’re going to visit a specialty shop I use and pick out some nice new toys.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe even handcuffs and a flogger or two.”
“And then?”
“Then we’re going to your house to start moving your things over here that you need to be comfortable with. I don’t want you running across the street every time you need something. That defeats the purpose.”
“I can definitely handle that,” she assured him.
“And last night was good, Lanie? You’re all right with everything?”
She lay back on the pillows and pulled his head down to her. “Everything’s fine. You never know. If I keep reading my erotic romances, I might come up with a few variations of my own.”
His hand slid under the covers and cupped her mound, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can hardly wait.”
What with one thing and another, it was a long time before they finally left the house. But neither of them objected.
About the Author
I always wanted adventure and change in my life, and I certainly got it. I grew up in Maine, a beautiful place to live, then lived in the Midwest and Florida. Now I make my home in the Hill Country of Texas, truly God's chosen place on earth. My husband, David, is a sixth generation Texan, tracing his roots here back to the time when Texas was a Republic, so retiring here was a dream we finally fulfilled.
I've had a lot of firsts in my life – first female sports report on The Michigan Daily at the University of Michigan; first woman to own a rock and roll agency in Detroit, the home of Motown; first woman president of the Pasco (Florida) Economic Development Council.
I graduated from the University of Michigan with a double major in English and History, and a minor in Economics, and went on to have at least four careers. When my children were small, I satisfied my need for writing by working for weekly newspapers. I had a wild and wacky time managing rock and roll bands. I joined the insanity of retail with a string of shoe stores. I worked in fundraising, public affairs and community relations. But writing fiction was always my dream. I had a lot of stops and starts, but it wasn't until we retired that I could devote myself to it full time.
My wonderful husband, David, encourages me and supports me in my dream. Our children are all grown and on their own, and are my biggest fans.
When I'm not writing I'm an avid reader – anything and everything – and watching football, especially my beloved Michigan Wolverines. David and I golf and target shoot, and of course enjoy life in the gorgeous Texas Hill Country, where most of my stories are based.
I am a member of Romance Writers of America, and San Antonio Romance Authors, Diamond State Romance Authors, and Passionate Ink chapter of RWA.
Email: desireeholt@desireeholt.com
Desiree loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com/.
Ashley Ladd
Charity’s Auction
To Robin, David, and Pauline – thanks for saving me. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. You’re a true Godsend.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Academy Award: National Academy of Television Arts & Sciences UNINC. ASSOCIATION
Boy Scout: THE NATIONAL BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA FOUNDATION
NASCAR: National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, Inc.
Pippi Longstocking: Lindgren, Astrid
Chapter One
Charity “Char” Reynolds stared at Dr. Dexter Graham, her eyes narrowed, her heart doing the cha-cha while mathematical calculations flew around in her head. He was gorgeous with his dark, five o’clock shadow, the sexy glint in his eyes, and his broad, powerful shoulders. If it weren’t for that smirk on his lips, he’d be perfect. But he was far from it. He only looked perfect.
The good doctor was a bad boy through and through. It was a toss up whether he mended or broke more hearts. His record on the operating room table was stellar. Off, however, was horrendous. He’d broken so many hearts with that killer smile and huge dimples he should be thrown into solitary confinement for the rest of his miserable life.
Amy Koch, the hospital’s chief administrator, adjusted the microphone with her only hand. Then she tapped the instrument and blew into it. “Can you hear me?”
When the sound from the mic blasted through Char’s head, she clapped her hands over her ears in self-preservation. “Have mercy, woman.”
Once her brain stopped spinning and she was able to see again, she looked over a sea of other people holding their ears. Tentatively, she removed one hand, keeping it close just in case the mic went crazy again.
Although, she felt sorry for Amy since the car wreck that had amputated the administrator’s left arm, that she couldn’t find anything to like about her caused her to war with feelings of guilt and distrust. Even before the accident, Amy had only been out for number one, stepping on anybody in her way, claiming it was for the greater good. Now people overlooked her mean tempered whining-until they came into her sights. Char had been dead centre in Amy’s far too often. As head surgical nurse, she and Amy butted heads daily.
“Welcome to our first annual charity auction.” Amy beamed at the audience and batted her fake lashes. When she moved, the spotlight made her rhinestones shoot laser beams around the room.
Amy clapped her hand against the mic and shot a grin as fake as her lashes at the audience. “I hope your cheque books are fat and happy and your fingers are itching to write outrageous amounts for the new children’s wing. Let’s get this thing off the ground tonight!”
Cheering anew deafened Char, and her lips stretched so tightly over her teeth they ached.
Her best friend, Beth, another surgical nurse, elbowed her. She rubbed her hands together, and there was a hungry gleam in her eyes. “My cheque book’s ready, willing and able. I moved money from savings to bid on Dr. Hottie.”
It was all Char could do to hold her smile in place and not growl at the sweet strawberry blonde. Since she’d never breathed a word about her brief fling with Dr. Hottie, she couldn’t accuse her friend of trying to steal her ex-boyfriend, yet her claws extended and her skin crawled. When her throat stopped constricting, she said as airily as possible, “Oh, really? Great minds think alike. Me, too.”
