and
down. “Well, I guess you found her.”
As she marched away, Marcus felt a little guilty
that he might have given her the impression he was
interested, but mostly he felt relieved. He sighed and
rubbed his hands over his face. He really didn’t have
time for this.
“And our next bachelor...” the emcee’s voice
resounded above the buzzing crowd.
Marcus shot forward again and didn’t stop until
he stood directly behind Charlotte.
“I know I’ve donated more than that before.” She
placed her hands on her hips and bent slightly
toward Melody. “That’s not the point. You’ve got to
stop this. It isn’t right.”
Melody shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t. The bidding
has concluded and the results are fi...” she
swallowed as her gaze met his over Charlotte’s
shoulder “...nal.”
Charlotte turned sideways to glare at him. “Do
something.”
He opened his mouth to ask her what the hell
47
Darah Lace
she thought he could do; she was the one who had
gotten them into this situation. But the hairs on the
back of his neck suddenly stood on end, and he
became aware of the hushed whispers around them.
“Marcus Preston goes to...” the emcee’s voice
echoed from the stage and silence fell over the
crowd, “...Charlotte Reese for fifty thousand dollars.”
Marcus groaned. Too late.
“No, this can’t be happening.” Charlotte’s words
were drowned out by assembly’s applause, whistling,
and cheers.
“Where are they, ladies and gentlemen? We
need them on stage.”
“Here, here they are,” someone close shouted.
“Get them on the stage. We have to have them
up here.”
Charlotte shook her head, her eyes narrowed on
Marcus. “I’m not going up there.”
“What? You think I want to? I’m not—”
His next words were cut off when a pack of well-
meaning acquaintances waylaid him from behind
and carted him toward the steps. He could demand
his release or shake them off, but there didn’t seem
much point in either. The damage was done. The
only thing to do now was figure a way to play this
thing through without adding to it.
Released beside the podium, Marcus heard
Charlotte screech and moved to take her from two
overzealous teens. The scowl on his face must have
scared them because they shoved her toward him
and hightailed it off the stage. He caught her upper
arms and steadied her. As angry as he was with her,
he couldn’t stand to see her manhandled.
“Geez,” Charlotte whispered as she pushed her
hair from her face. “How could this have happened?”
Marcus wondered the same thing as the emcee
waved a hand toward them and began his speech.
“Clearly, Charlotte was determined to get her hands
48
Bachelor Auction
on Marcus. Not only—”
“Looks like she already has,” someone yelled
from somewhere near the stage.
A roar of laughter followed, and Marcus looked
at Charlotte’s silvery blonde hair, matted from when
his hands had made themselves at home. The
absence of the bright red lipstick she had worn
earlier only accentuated her still puffy lips.
“What happened to your cummerbund, Marcus?”
shouted another heckler.
Marcus released Charlotte and stepped back to
check out his cummerbund. Its metal hook caught on
the gold button of her jacket then snapped free,
popping him in the stomach. He bit back a curse as
he rearranged his cummerbund, which had
somehow—and he hated to think how—gotten
turned around, facing backward.
He heard her gasp but was more concerned with
the humiliation of his own dishabille to pay
attention until she suddenly plastered herself
against him, her arms wound tightly around his
neck.
“What the hell?”
She shrugged and fingered his hair off his
forehead. “I’m thinking our only alternative is to go
along, play to the crowd.”
A familiar voice boomed above the noise.
“Where’s your bow tie?”
“Bet Charlotte knows,” someone answered.
Charlotte tilted her head back
down. “Well, I guess you found her.”
As she marched away, Marcus felt a little guilty
that he might have given her the impression he was
interested, but mostly he felt relieved. He sighed and
rubbed his hands over his face. He really didn’t have
time for this.
“And our next bachelor...” the emcee’s voice
resounded above the buzzing crowd.
Marcus shot forward again and didn’t stop until
he stood directly behind Charlotte.
“I know I’ve donated more than that before.” She
placed her hands on her hips and bent slightly
toward Melody. “That’s not the point. You’ve got to
stop this. It isn’t right.”
Melody shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t. The bidding
has concluded and the results are fi...” she
swallowed as her gaze met his over Charlotte’s
shoulder “...nal.”
Charlotte turned sideways to glare at him. “Do
something.”
He opened his mouth to ask her what the hell
47
Darah Lace
she thought he could do; she was the one who had
gotten them into this situation. But the hairs on the
back of his neck suddenly stood on end, and he
became aware of the hushed whispers around them.
“Marcus Preston goes to...” the emcee’s voice
echoed from the stage and silence fell over the
crowd, “...Charlotte Reese for fifty thousand dollars.”
Marcus groaned. Too late.
“No, this can’t be happening.” Charlotte’s words
were drowned out by assembly’s applause, whistling,
and cheers.
“Where are they, ladies and gentlemen? We
need them on stage.”
“Here, here they are,” someone close shouted.
“Get them on the stage. We have to have them
up here.”
Charlotte shook her head, her eyes narrowed on
Marcus. “I’m not going up there.”
“What? You think I want to? I’m not—”
His next words were cut off when a pack of well-
meaning acquaintances waylaid him from behind
and carted him toward the steps. He could demand
his release or shake them off, but there didn’t seem
much point in either. The damage was done. The
only thing to do now was figure a way to play this
thing through without adding to it.
Released beside the podium, Marcus heard
Charlotte screech and moved to take her from two
overzealous teens. The scowl on his face must have
scared them because they shoved her toward him
and hightailed it off the stage. He caught her upper
arms and steadied her. As angry as he was with her,
he couldn’t stand to see her manhandled.
“Geez,” Charlotte whispered as she pushed her
hair from her face. “How could this have happened?”
Marcus wondered the same thing as the emcee
waved a hand toward them and began his speech.
“Clearly, Charlotte was determined to get her hands
48
Bachelor Auction
on Marcus. Not only—”
“Looks like she already has,” someone yelled
from somewhere near the stage.
A roar of laughter followed, and Marcus looked
at Charlotte’s silvery blonde hair, matted from when
his hands had made themselves at home. The
absence of the bright red lipstick she had worn
earlier only accentuated her still puffy lips.
“What happened to your cummerbund, Marcus?”
shouted another heckler.
Marcus released Charlotte and stepped back to
check out his cummerbund. Its metal hook caught on
the gold button of her jacket then snapped free,
popping him in the stomach. He bit back a curse as
he rearranged his cummerbund, which had
somehow—and he hated to think how—gotten
turned around, facing backward.
He heard her gasp but was more concerned with
the humiliation of his own dishabille to pay
attention until she suddenly plastered herself
against him, her arms wound tightly around his
neck.
“What the hell?”
She shrugged and fingered his hair off his
forehead. “I’m thinking our only alternative is to go
along, play to the crowd.”
A familiar voice boomed above the noise.
“Where’s your bow tie?”
“Bet Charlotte knows,” someone answered.
Charlotte tilted her head back
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