Chapter Three
How had Emily’s sister trapped him in his own words? It took a second but he finally laughed. “Let’s just say I’m not interested in whatever Courtney has in mind.”
“Got it.” Liz nodded. “So what’s the plan? Trip her when she walks by?”
If he thought it would work, Devlin just might have gone along with that one.
“You’re thinking too hard on that, Devlin Baron.” The reproving tone in Emily’s voice was hard to miss.
“Isn’t there someone else here we could hook her up with?” Devlin glanced around the room. Plenty of eligible men.
Liz followed his gaze. “You tell me. Who has more money than you?”
Devlin’s head snapped around.
“Unless it’s the sex she’s after?” Liz smiled demurely at him. “Could that be it?”
“Don’t mind my sister.” Emily sighed. “She has no filter.”
“I do too.” Liz lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders which made her cleavage rise and fall again and Devlin resisted the urge to squirm. “I just happen to believe in telling it like it is.”
“Like I said,” Emily rolled her eyes skyward, “no filter.”
“So how many men are rolling in money and sexy too, and which one would spark the husband-hunting woman’s interest?” Liz pushed on.
Unfortunately, though there were plenty of rich and handsome men in the room, many of them single, Courtney seemed almost obsessed with getting her hands on Devlin. Every year, he had to cough up more and more money to keep the woman’s fake fingernails away from him.
“No one.” Emily said what he’d been thinking. “At least no one that Courtney has shown any interest in.”
“It’s no use.” Devlin understood all too well the thrill of the hunt. As far as he was concerned, for Courtney this was all about winning.
“Stuffed dates?” A waiter waved a tray of appetizers in front of them.
“Ooh.” Liz waved her fingers over the tray until they snatched up a date. “I love stuffed dates.”
The woman held it up to her lips and suddenly Devlin wished he were a date. The idea of Liz’s mouth slowly devouring him was more thrilling than flying on the open seas in a sleek sailboat, or hitting the jackpot in the casino. Man, he needed to get his head on straight. Spinning around, he reached for his drink on the bar at the same time another waiter came by with a tray of caviar and sour cream. The collision sent the tray and the sour cream flying—onto Emily.
The surprised screech that escaped Emily’s mouth sent a shiver up his spine as though someone had run their fingernails down a chalkboard. Her beautiful blue satin gown was dripping with black caviar and white sour cream.
Liz’s “Oh, my,” tumbled over the waiter’s, “I’m so sorry, ma’am.”
The flustered server mumbled something about a wet rag and took off across the room at a fast clip.
“I don’t know what hurts more.” Arms spread wide, Emily stared down at her food draped dress. “That I look like the inside of a blender or that a waiter old enough to be my father called me ma’am.”
“You’re going to need more than a rag. There have to be towels in the ladies’ room. Let’s boogie.” Liz grabbed her sister by the arm and swooped her away.
At that very moment, the MC for the evening announced that this year the live bachelor auction would be starting off the evening’s activities. Paige had mentioned something at dinner the other night that to avoid folks holding back on the silent auctions and other items, saving up to bid on the bachelors that they would auction the few men on the block first.
Devlin looked over his shoulder toward the hall where Emily and her sister had disappeared and prayed cleaning a dress wasn’t going to take very long. A few feet away, he spotted Courtney Miller chatting with the auctioneer. The woman wore a sequined black gown that fit so snuggly he doubted she could sit. Maybe Liz’s idea wasn’t so bad. How hard would it be to trip a woman draped in black sequins?
“Good grief.” Liz stared at her sister’s food covered lap. “I’m not sure this is going to work.”
“We have to try.”
The loudspeakers in the bathroom softly announced the bachelor auction would be starting soon.
“And we have to make it fast.” Emily grabbed several of the white terry washcloths neatly folded on the counter and began swiping at her dress.
“Careful!” Liz grabbed her arm. “Don’t rub it in.”
“I’m trying to rub it off .”
“I get it.” She grabbed fresh rags and began dabbing at the dress more carefully.
Again, the speakers announced for everyone to take their seats and the bachelors to report to the podium.
“Oh, boy.” Emily glanced up at the speakers on the ceiling. “We’re running out of time. What if we just pour water on it?”
“Why don’t we just strip you down and wash it in the toilet?” Sometimes she wondered where her practical sister came up with such absurd ideas. “Just let me get rid of the bulk of this and we’ll figure out what to do with the rest.”
At that, the MC for the evening began reading the bios of the four bachelors up for auction.
“This is so not good.” Emily shook her head and reached behind her back. “Get me out of this.”
“What?” Liz waved her arms. “You planning on bidding for Devlin in your underwear?”
“No. I’m going to wash the dress.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Liz soaked one of the towels and began wiping at the sloppy skirt. “You could just go out there and bid in a dirty dress.”
“Just what I need. To mingle with the cream of Houston’s society looking like I’ve been dumpster diving.” Sighing heavily, Emily twisted around. “Unzip me. We’re going to rinse off the gunk and then dry it under the hand blower.”
“It could make the stain worse.”
“At least the whole skirt will be the same water-stained color.” Emily twisted her arms over her shoulders. “Hurry.”
As fast as she could, Liz shoved her sister into the nearest stall and helped her out of the flowing gown. “This would have been easier if you didn’t dress like a Victorian lady-in-waiting.”
“I do not,” Emily huffed. “The sweetheart neckline is not Victorian.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still a discreet neckline. Add the long sleeves and no slit in the skirt, and I’d classify that if not Victorian, at least as conservative. My point being, if there were less dress it would be easier to clean and faster to dry.”
The voice over the loudspeaker called Devlin Baron to the stage.
“Oh, hell.” Emily flung the stall door open and ran across the empty ladies room. Taking hold of the dress now under the running faucet, she tipped her head at her sister. “Go to the table, grab my purse, and pull out the bidding number. You’re going to have to bid for Dev. I’ll finish up here and get out as fast as I can.”
Liz nodded. What more could she do? “Do we have a limit?”
“Nope.” Emily squeezed the water out of her dress and shook her head. “Whatever it takes to stop Courtney.”
“Got it.” Liz flung the door open and could hear the auctioneer opening the bidding at one thousand dollars. Scurrying across the room to their table, she listened as the bidding quickly jumped from one thousand to two and then twenty-five hundred and just as she yanked the number out of the purse, some woman with much too much make-up raised her hand to three thousand.
Liz made a dang good living, but who in their right mind would spend three grand for a dinner date with a man? Even if the man was Devlin Baron.
Standing at the table, her gaze shifting from the platform with Devlin standing at parade rest with his hands behind his back, and over to the bathroom door, hoping her sister would come out. She’d been given permission to bid as high as necessary, but at the moment three women, including the plastic face painted lady, had worked the bidding up to nine grand.
Who the heck pays that kind of money for a dinner date? She sucked in a breath, but no sign of her sister. Meanwhile, the bidding had reached twelve grand and at least one woman had the good sense to shake her head and back away from the bidding. Liz had watched enough episodes of that storage auction television show to know that if she jumped in too soon, all she would succeed at doing was raising the ante. Though, it didn’t look like Devlin minded. His head turning slightly from side to side, his smile intact, silently wooing the audience, the guy didn’t look like he had a care in the world.
One of the two women seemed to be slowing. The brunette had begun nibbling on her lower lip with every bid, and each rebuttal seemed to take a few seconds longer than the previous bid. Like it or not, there was no time for Emily, Liz was going to have to jump in. The plastic lady with a smug grin raised her card at twenty thousand dollars and the brunette’s shoulders slumped and her card face down at her table, she shook her head. She was out.
Even though the idea of twenty thousand dollars gave her goose flesh, it was her turn. The auctioneer called for twenty-one thousand and sucking in a long deep breath while she prayed she didn’t pass out, even if she was spending someone else’s money, she raised her card.
The auctioneer acknowledged the bid and the blonde’s head snapped around so fast that Liz thought it might fall off her shoulders.
Liz couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. Wouldn’t that be a cheap resolution for Devlin if the barracuda lady simply lost her head?