Wordz Press

 A Fool for Love by Susan Mallery

We gave five authors from five different Harlequin and Silhouette series the same opening paragraph, and asked each of them to write the rest of the story. The result is five very distinctive individual stories that are compelling, engaging and, of course, romantic!

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(This is the opening paragraph the Harlequin.com editors gave to all five authors:)

"And the last bachelor up for bids is..."

Alex tuned out the auctioneer’s voice and wondered for the millionth time how he’d gotten roped into this. A bachelor auction was definitely not his style — even on Valentine’s Day. But, he reminded himself, this was for a good cause.

Tugging at the collar of his uniform, he shifted uneasily as the auctioneer continued his sales pitch. Should he smile? Pose? He just didn’t feel comfortable up on stage with a blinding spotlight shining on him. He hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.

The auctioneer was driving up the bids — but all Alex could hear was the roar of the crowd as women yelled out numbers and cheered each other on. Squinting into the lights, he tried to make out who was bidding on him, but to no avail.

Then, before he knew it, the gavel sounded. He’d been sold! But to who...?

He’d given Deena specific instructions to outbid anyone else, but with the Parker deal about to reach critical mass, she could have been on the cell phone arranging a last meeting. His efficient assistant might be capable of keeping his chaotic business affairs in order, but even she couldn’t arrange his schedule and bid at the same time.

"Congratulations," the auctioneer said with a grin. "You went for the most money. Things got pretty heated there at the end." The older man glanced at Alex’s dark blue jacket. "Women have a thing for men in uniform."

Alex didn’t want to think about the scratchy nineteenth-century British naval officer costume he’d been forced to wear. A bachelor auction hadn’t been enough for the charity organizers. Instead they’d offered a chance to bid on "Military Men through Time." He consoled himself with the thought that a heavy jacket and too-tight pants were far better than the toga he’d seen one poor guy in earlier.

Alex stepped off the stage and into the crowd of women. He ignored them as he searched for a petite redhead with a cell phone in one hand and a PalmPilot in the other. He found her by the side of the stage. As he approached, she tore off a check and handed it to the woman in charge.

He grinned in relief. "I thought you might be on the cell setting up the Parker meeting and miss the auction."

Deena accepted the receipt and tucked it into her large shoulder briefcase. "I took that call while we worked our way through Christopher Columbus and Henry the Eighth. You’re flying out to see John Parker first thing Monday morning. I’ve arranged for Legal to review the initial offer and I’ve put off the press conference until Tuesday. If the meeting goes well, we’ll have it. If not, there’s plenty of time to cancel it."

She rattled off the rest of the arrangements she’d made while he’d been busy preparing to be sold to the highest bidder.

As always, her efficiency impressed him. When his assistant of ten years had retired nearly nine months ago to spend more time with her husband and grandchildren, he’d doubted she could be replaced. But Amanda Smith’s last act had been to find him Deena. At first he’d balked at the idea of a pretty woman in her twenties sitting in the office next to his. His assistant had to travel with him, be available seven days a week and generally keep his life in order. Foolish young women only interested in the latest fashions or finding a man need not apply.

But despite his misgivings, Deena had proved herself to be even better than he’d thought possible. Without her keeping his life running smoothly, Thornton Industries would not be on the verge of closing a multibillion-dollar deal.

He glanced at the well-dressed crowd. "Let’s get out of here before they rope us into staying for lunch."

Deena nodded and led the way to the waiting limo. As she walked, she stuffed her PalmPilot and cell phone into her briefcase. She was shaking so much that she thought she might drop them.

What had seemed like a really cool idea at the time had instead turned into a nightmare. Knowing she only had herself to blame for the situation didn’t make the knot in her stomach go away.

She could still get out of it, she told herself. All she had to do was tell Alex that she’d used her own money instead of the company’s and all would be made right. He would reimburse her and life would go on as before. Except then she might never get a chance at what she really wanted…to be seen as a person by the only man she’d ever loved.

Alex held open the rear door of the limo, then climbed in after her.

"How much did you have to pay?" he asked as he began to unbutton his costume jacket.

"Eight thousand dollars." Money that had just about cleaned out her savings account.

He raised his dark eyebrows. "Eight thousand for twenty-four hours? Not a bad living." He shrugged out of the jacket. As he moved, his muscles clenched and released.

Tall, lean and strong, Alex played as hard as he worked. Three mornings a week he spent an hour in the company gym. Deena knew, because she was usually there with him, going through her own exercise routine, with a small tape recorder tucked in her pocket. She took verbal notes, sometimes breathlessly, depending on her level of exercise and whether or not Alex took off his shirt.

"Set up a brunch with the lawyers for Sunday," he said.

Nine months and fourteen days after she’d walked into his office for her initial interview and had been struck by lightning, Deena was finally prepared to do something about her completely foolish, completely inappropriate feelings. Because she couldn’t go on like this anymore. Because she had to know if there was chance. Better to find out the truth, even if it was bad, than spend the rest of her life wondering.

"No," she said quietly.

"And then you can—" Alex stared at her. "What did you say?"

She squared her shoulders. "No. You won’t be having brunch with the lawyers on Sunday. You’ll be with me. I didn’t use the company check you gave me, Alex. I used my own money and bought you myself. Starting Saturday at noon, you’re mine for twenty-four hours."