Dirty Deal (Perfectly Matched 2)

“Five hundred dollars!”

The grating soprano of his former girlfriend split the air as her paddle darted upward. She sat on the edge of her seat, bright-eyed and shaking like a Chihuahua in need of a walk.

“Uh, yeah. Good. Great start,” Quinn said, shooting him a panicked glance. “Who will give me five-fifty?” she called, a note of desperation in her voice.

She was clearly as shocked as he was by Piper’s presence, which made him feel a little better.

Not much, though. He made his way across the stage a second time and, mercifully, another paddle shot up. He sent a grateful smile toward the bidder until he realized who it was. Grace Love, owner of one of the numerous dating companies Quinn had harangued him into joining, sat at the table across from his ex, her gaze fixed intently on him.

Perfect.

There was no way to know which was the lesser of the two evils. Piper was basically a gold medalist in stalking, but Grace was making strides toward surpassing his ex’s record. In the weeks since he’d been home, she’d contacted him half a dozen times, begging him to endorse her company. It was weird, and not a little unsettling. No doubt if she won the auction he’d be forced to sit through five courses listening to why it was best for everyone that he “be the face of Love Will Find a Way matchmaking services.”

There wasn’t much time to think on it too hard, because the bids were flying like bullets across the room, with each woman whipping out her paddle before the other had finished speaking. All the while, he could spot Piper whispering something out the side of her mouth. Knowing Piper, it could’ve been anything. Voodoo curses at her competitor. Wiccan love spells. Crazed threats. There was no telling which, but he was damned sure that she wasn’t above any of it.

And the bids kept climbing. Two women, locked in a battle that he was sure to lose. Eighteen hundred. Nineteen hundred, with no sign of either of them slowing down. He’d stopped working the catwalk and stood stock-still, just wanting it to be over so he could mentally prepare for whatever fresh hell awaited him, when a statuesque platinum blonde he’d been too traumatized to notice sitting beside Grace snatched the paddle from her.

She mumbled something he couldn’t hear, first to her companion and then to Piper. With a sinking heart, he thought for a moment that she had taken Grace’s paddle from her altogether to stop her from spending too much money, but on Piper’s next bid, the blonde countered her with a cool confidence. Then, she turned to face the stage and met his gaze head on.

She was impossibly gorgeous, with blue eyes so bright he could see them from twenty yards away, and he found himself wishing for a bigger fig leaf.

Okay, so maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total bust after all.

…

“Watch and learn, you nancy.” Serena grabbed her friend’s paddle and set it in her lap, waiting for the viper sitting opposite them to strike again.

Grace had been putting up bids like they were going out of style and all for one guy at a bachelor’s auction? Yes, Love Will Find a Way could use the endorsement, but surely there were other attractive, eligible doctors around who could do it. If Grace didn’t have a hunk of a man at home, Serena would’ve wondered if maybe her friend didn’t have a little crush on this Bryan Metcalf.

And if Grace’s behavior wasn’t weird enough, the other woman was taking the bidding just as seriously. Okay, so the guy was cute in a nice-guy way, and his body was lean and muscular, right up her alley, but this was a little much.

As soon as Grace raised her paddle, the woman had come at her with a barrage of put-downs that had been getting progressively more vicious, starting with, “You’re not really his type, sweetie,” and ending somewhere near, “You could probably stand to go without a five-course meal.”

Grace was too sweet and dignified to respond to the woman’s taunting, but Serena?

Oh, hell no. She wouldn’t abide anybody talking to her best friend that way.

Serena leaned across Grace to get close enough for the little bully to hear her. “Blanche from Golden Girls called. She wants that dress back,” she hissed, sneering at the woman’s three-seasons-out-of-date polka-dot frock before throwing her paddle in the air.

“Fuck you, Twiggy,” the woman snarled before calling out, “Three thousand!”

Damn. This bitch had balls of steel and a major lady boner for Dr. Bryan Metcalf.

Serena sized her up, looking for a weak spot to exploit, when Grace tapped her wrist and directed her attention to the auction again.

Right. They needed to win this or Grace was going to pitch a fit. Apparently only “hometown hero” Bryan Metcalf would do, so Serena threw the paddle in the air again. Now it was on.

“I still don’t think I get what your plan is here, by the way.” She shouldered Grace, grabbing her attention away from the woman beside them who continued the onslaught of insults not-really-under-her-breath.

“I just need ten minutes to talk to him about advertising for us. A couple photo shoots and a commercial, easy peasy. Look at him. That’s the face I want for our posters.”

With his short brown hair, straight nose, and strong jawline, it was definitely a nice face, but that didn’t change the fact that their matchmaking company had dozens of clients who were equally good-looking, some of whom were even pretty high-profile.

So the question remained—what was the big effing deal about this guy?

She threw the paddle into the air again and took a long sip of water before continuing. “I don’t get why you couldn’t ask anyone we’ve ever worked with. Anyone else?”

“I have my reasons.” She wore that shifty, guarded look, and Serena knew she wouldn’t get any more answers from her now. Maybe, along with her matchmaking superpowers, Grace had developed a Spidey sense for good publicity and just knew this was the guy for them. Either way, her friend didn’t ask for much, so when she did, Serena would do anything in her power to help her get it. For now she’d have to let the subject drop.

The shrill voice of the woman across from them sounded again, interrupting her thoughts.

“Maybe you should stop bidding and put your money into suing the doctor that botched your boob job instead,” she hissed. This time her target was Serena.

“Maybe I could donate it to your charity fund instead. What was it? Tits for Twats?”

The woman glared at her and raised her paddle in the air.

Serena raised hers just as fast, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue while she was at it.

“Are you paying attention to the numbers?” Grace whispered under her breath. “We can’t go over thirty-five hundred. That’s all we’ve got.”

“I see thirty-two, can I get thirty-three?” the pretty female auctioneer called.

“Aw, running scared, girls? That’s good. Bryan needs woman, not a dog and a bone.” The other woman’s eyes twinkled with evil glee and she smiled, waving her paddle with an extra flourish.

Oh, hell no.

Not only did she need to save this poor bastard on stage from a woman who was clearly capable of ending their date by strapping him to a sacrificial altar and preserving his body Psycho-style for her future enjoyment, but it was personal now. If this girl wanted to throw down, Serena was happy to join her in the gutter.

But how to get past the bidding cap of thirty-five hundred?

She couldn’t touch the trust fund her parents had left her. She wouldn’t come within ten yards of that thing unless she needed to fund a space mission that would help the U.S. government avoid an extraterrestrial attack. Personally, she still had some money her grandmother had given her before she’d passed away, and her own meager savings from her salary at the company, but she knew from experience, it would be like pulling teeth to get Grace to accept it.

And even if she managed to do that, in spite of her knockoff dress, the other woman’s funds seemed limitless. If Serena was going to beat her out, she’d have to come up with a plan B. What could the hospital use that was as valua

ble as cold hard cash? It clearly didn’t need matchmaking services…but it could probably do with a venue to host these little charity functions, and she had just the place.

She stood and then climbed on top of her chair, waving her paddle to catch the toga-clad auctioneer’s attention.

“Permission to approach the bench?” she shouted.

“Uh…” The auctioneer looked like a deer in the headlights and shrugged. “It’s not really a bench, but—”

Serena cut her off. “Whatever. I will allow the foundation to host its next two gala or charity events at my home, the Elliott estate, if you close the bidding now. I’d also give three thousand dollars toward the foundation, of course.”

It was a good offer. Actually, a great offer. Serena’s family estate—the other thing her grandmother had left her—was well known in Salem and could handle a party of five hundred, if need be. A place even close to comparable would cost the hospital in excess of ten thousand dollars for a night, and she’d offered two nights.

The auctioneer’s brows rose and she held up a finger. “I’ll…be right back!” She started to scurry backstage as the room broke into excited chatter, but she’d barely taken two steps when a sturdy, elderly woman at the table full of hospital board members jumped up and shouted, “Sold!”

Crazy bitch from across the table squawked, but now that the spotlight had swung toward them, she ramped down the psycho and sat, fists clenched, face ruddy with rage, but quiet.

The auctioneer headed back to the lectern and banged her gavel once, a grin lighting her pretty face. “Excellent, thank you Chairwoman Spencer, and thanks to you, Ms. Elliott, for your more than generous donation.” The closing remarks continued on, but Serena tuned them out.

Her mission here was complete.

Hasta la vista, baby. She smirked at her fallen competitor and grabbed Grace’s hand.