Page 40 of Auction Time
“So with that in mind, want to talk to us about Cole?” Abby asked.
“He knows.” I nodded.
Mia straightened. “He knows what?”
“That I’m a virgin.”
“You told him?” She looked surprised.
“Not in so many words, but he guessed it.” Talking to them felt good. It made me wish I hadn’t kept myself away from them all these years, wanting my own space because they were all so sex-crazed. Maybe I would have known how to deal with my current situation myself.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not doing anything. It’s best. I don’t want to…” I stopped and thought about it. “I just think it’s better. I should keep my distance.”
“Really? Do you think you can?” Mia said that like it was a challenge.
“Yes.” I would. “He’s wrong for me. He’s fun guy.”
“Nothing wrong with a little fun.” Abby intoned in a sing song voice.
I groaned inwardly. I’d considered the notion of fun.
It would be what I’d be opening the door to it I allowed myself to be tempted by Cole.
Fun.
It was all I could expect from him and no more. What got to me was I knew that and there was still a part of me that yearned for him. Just as he’d said when he’d come to my house and made me dinner.
I was the good girl who wanted a taste of wild.
“She’s right.” Mia joined in. “There’s nothing wrong with fun.”
“I’m not sure fun is for me.” I raised my shoulders into a little shrug.
* * *
I told myself that same thing the next day as we walked into the hotel’s function room for dinner.
Everyone was here… except him.
Cole wasn’t here.
Half an hour passed, and there was still no sign of him.
Not wanting to be the fifth wheel, I walked out to the balcony when Mia and Abby got with their guys.
I beheld the scenic skyscrapers before me surrounded by all the city lights and got lost in my admiration for being somewhere new. I couldn’t help it. I was a city girl. I loved looking at the cities, particularly at night.
My favorites were the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco and London. The Golden Gate Bridge always looked to me like it was on fire, and London was just a mass of beautiful architecture and lights.
I turned when I heard footsteps.
Like every time I saw him, my heart stopped. Tonight was no exception, and the fact that he looked so good didn’t help my poor heart, which reached out invisible fingers to the man who gave me so much life in his paintings.
He’d had his hair neatly trimmed so it looked sharper while still keeping the length and the subtle waves.
He walked up to me and stopped in front of me. I could talk big the other night and tell him how much I didn’t want to be one of his women. But when he looked at me the way he was right now, all of that bravado faded from my mind.
