Hard Limit (St. Louis Mavericks 2)

Vanessa gave me a nudge, bringing me back to the present. “Your boy is up soon.”

The last guy had been auctioned off for four hundred dollars, which didn’t seem like a lot, but I’d also never heard of the rookie running back for the city’s newest football franchise, the St. Louis Sentinels. The high-profile players were being saved for last, and Lars was somewhere in the middle, so I figured he’d be auctioned for a little more.

You know you want to bid, Sheridan.

The devil on my shoulder seemed to be speaking directly to my libido.

“Too young, right?” Vanessa was asking me, motioning to the baseball player who’d just flexed his muscles on the stage. He was laughing, obviously having a good time with this, pulling off his dress shirt and waving it around as a bunch of twentysomethings started bidding.

“He’s probably not old enough to drink,” I told her, laughing.

“Probably not. And I’m torn between Nash and Scotty anyway.”

“Bid on them both,” I teased her.

Her eyes gleamed. “Damn, I would if I thought I could get away with it!”

Three more guys were auctioned off and then they announced Lars. I sat up straighter, trying not to look too interested, but holy hell; he was even hotter in person. He was big all over. Not just tall, but muscular and broad shouldered. His thighs flexed as he walked across the stage, muscles bulging beneath his dark gray dress pants, and his shoulders seemed to take up the whole room.

“You’re not really going to bid, are you?” she asked, her eyes widening slightly.

“Maybe?” I glanced at her.

“But—”

“He doesn’t have to know.” Our eyes locked and then I turned to face the stage as the bidding started.

“Two hundred!” One of the twentysomethings sitting near the stage jumped up, waving her bid paddle. We’d all received one when we arrived, and everyone’s information was already on file, so the money transaction would be seamless.

“Two twenty-five!” One of her friends stuck her tongue out at her as they laughed.

“Two fifty!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath.

Lars did not look happy to be there and each time someone called out a bid, he jumped a little. Not only did I want to jump his bones, I also had the most irrational need to protect him. Which made no sense for a big professional hockey player like that.

“Three forty!” The first young woman called out again.

Lars was simply standing at the bottom of the stage now, and while the other guys had laughed, flirted, and had fun with it, he was somewhat wooden, the smile on his face obviously forced. But he was beautiful. His long, blond hair fell past his high cheekbones, almost to his shoulders, curling the tiniest bit on the bottom. His eyes were electric blue, even from ten or fifteen feet away, and when we made eye contact, I almost spontaneously combusted. That was the final nail in the coffin of my self-control and I slowly got to my feet.

“Three fifty!” One of the other ladies called out.

That was all it took. I smiled at Lars and held up my paddle. “Ten thousand.”

“Excuse me?” The emcee paused. “Number twenty-four—did you say ten…thousand?”

I smiled at the three young women who were now shooting daggers at me with their eyes before I turned to the emcee. “I did.”

“Now that’s what I call donating to charity!” The emcee was pleased as punch. “Lars Jansson goes for ten thousand dollars! Do we have any other bids?”

I sat down with a smug smile.

The emcee grinned as he spoke. “Number twenty-four wins Lars Jansson for a whopping ten thousand dollars—the rest of you boys have some work to do!”

Everyone laughed, but my eyes were on Lars. And then his met mine. For the first time since he’d come out on stage, I saw a glimmer of his personality as he took a moment to study me. Mostly, I saw curiosity, but there was also a hint of annoyance with a dash of…interest?

Before I could figure it out, he was gone, striding backstage.

“This right here is why we’re besties.” Vanessa dissolved into laughter and I joined her, my eyes never leaving Lars’s retreating back.

I’d either done something really liberating or incredibly stupid. Either way, I’d just won myself a date with a professional hockey player who looked like a Nordic god, and for the first time in thirteen months, I was excited about something.

Chapter Two

Lars

Mavericks Group Text

Wes: Boys, this is your captain speaking. I want every member of the team to join me in congratulating Nash and Lars, who are selling their bodies to raise money for charity. Nash brought in 7K for a night with a cougar, and Lars brought in 10K, courtesy of a supermodel. Enjoy those dates, guys—and update all of us here afterward.

Boone: I hated to miss that auction but I had to. How much of a cougar are we talking? Is Nash’s date at a nursing home?