"Up you come, Ms. Watson. I should add that we owe tonight's splendor to the fair hands of this lady. I have it on good authority that this whole event was Ms. Watson’s brainchild, so let's put our hands together to show our appreciation, shall we?"
Thunderous applause accompanied Hannah's progress onto the stage, and not unlike the nickname he'd bestowed on her, she appeared ready to take flight. Her crystal blue eyes looked too big for her heart-shaped face, and even across the room, he could see the wild staccato of her pulse in her neck. Her impressive rack strained against the confines of her dress, her breath appeared to come in short gasps, and she looked on the verge of a panic attack as the bidding started.
Logan hung back, silently amused at the way the bids stepped up rapidly. It seemed he wasn’t the only one in attendance tonight who appreciated a real woman when they saw her. He barely bit back a laugh when Herringey from accounts realized he couldn’t afford her.
“Going once, going twice, for five thousand pounds on the lovely Hannah. Do we have any more?” The Master of Ceremonies raised his hammer one last time and waited. Just before he brought it down Logan intervened.
“Ten thousand!”
A collective gasp went through the assembled crowd, and Hannah dropped her head and appeared to be praying for divine intervention. Monique gave a very good and most unattractive impression of a goldfish—he really would have to deal with her come Monday morning—while the silver-haired guy, who had driven the bids up thus far, threw Logan a glance, and then shook his head at the Master of Ceremonies.
“Sold for ten thousand pounds to none other than Logan Bryce. Thank you for your generosity and come claim your date.”
Logan slowly made his way across the room, and by the time he reached the stage some color had returned to his little dove’s cheeks. In fact, she positively vibrated in fury, and, sure enough, when he drew close and nudged her chin up with his forefinger, the furious look in her eyes would have felled a lesser man. Too bad for her that her outrage only served to make him harder. It would be such fun, indeed, to tame the little spitfire in front of him.
“Shall we get out of here, little dove?” he asked.
“How dare you? I’m not going anywhere with you. You’ve set this up, haven’t you? Well, you’ve had your laugh at my expense. I will not do this. I can’t. I’m not for sale, damn you.”
The words, delivered in a hissed whisper for his ears only, brought with them more of the subtle flowery scent he'd noticed earlier. It wasn't a fragrance he could place. Certainly not one of the more cloying, expensive perfumes he was used to from the women in his acquaintance. Hannah's scent was all her. Fresh and light, it brought to mind meadows in the summer breeze, like the kind his brother and he had played in when they were children. Long before Rick had been responsible for beating his wife into a pulp. Long before Logan's own and far too painful brush with the women's refuge.
“Are you not, my dear? Yet, here you are, to all intents and purposes mine for the next twenty-four hours.” He blocked the hand poised to connect with his cheek easily enough, and pulled Hannah away and off the stage and their fascinated audience.
“Now, now, little dove, violence is never the answer. Isn’t that the motto of the evening?”
Hannah kicked his shin, and he cursed under his breath as pain shot up from that abused part of his body.
She looked utterly mortified at her action, as confirmed by the words tumbling out her mouth.
“Jeez, let me go. This isn’t me. I’m sorry I kicked you, but for God’s sake enough of this.”
Amusement replaced his annoyance, and he chose to wind her up a bit more.
“That’s the oddest apology I ever heard, I have to say.” He didn't release his grip on her wrists. Instead, he marched her backwards until her back
hit the wall, and using his considerable body mass crowded her in.
“It also changes nothing, and, besides, do you really want the charity to lose ten grand, because you don’t trust yourself in my company?”
He grinned at her outraged gasp.
“You wouldn’t renege on your donation?” The breathy question shot straight to his groin, and he shifted to relieve the ache in his balls.
“Maybe not, but are you really willing to take that risk, little Hannah?”
She opened her mouth to no doubt chew him out some more, but whatever she read in his expression stopped her.
“Don’t stop protesting now. It’s rather amusing to see you fight this thing between us.”
“What? There is no us. Let me go. I’ll scream.” That breathy moan of a reply wouldn’t disturb the wings of a butterfly, but it made him even harder.
He dipped his head and whispered the next words into her ear.
“You don’t really want me to let you go, do you?”
She gasped in answer. Hot little puffs of air ghosted across his jaw, further testament that she wasn’t as unaffected as she’d like him to think she was. Hannah bit her lip, and the hand she had poised on his chest to push him away curled into the lapels of his tuxedo, instead, and raising herself up on tiptoes, she reiterated in kind.
“Yes, I do.”