Chapter One
Going Once, Going Twice, Sold
Sara
There’s a lot a girl could do with five-hundred dollars.
I could easily blow that money splurging on the camel-colored suede boots I’ve been ogling for the past month but can’t justify buying. Or I could book a round-trip flight somewhere warm and take the vacation I desperately need from my ninety-hour workweeks at the law firm. If I wanted to be practical, I could set that money aside in a bank account and watch it earn interest.
But tonight, I gave myself a limit of five-hundred big ones to spend on landing myself an evening with one of the hottest men Seattle has to offer.
Before you go thinking dirty thoughts, no, I don’t mean like that.
Every year, a group of us buys a table for the charity date auction put on by the nonprofit my friend Aubree works for. The girls love the excuse to wear fancy dresses, and the guys like that they can drink beer under the guise of doing it “for a cause.”
Tonight is our third consecutive year attending, but it’s the first year that some of the Ice Hawks players have volunteered to auction themselves off. Teddy, Owen, and a few of the players from the second and third lines I hardly recognize outside the hockey arena are all dressed especially dapper this evening, each one with a Your Future Dance Partner button pinned to his lapel to indicate that he’s up for auction tonight.
And there’s another first this year. It’s the first time that I’ve allowed myself to bid. Work has been beyond stressful since I’ve started to be considered as a contender for partner at the law firm I’ve worked for since college. Of course, more responsibility has meant I’ve been working more hours, so my social life has become practically nonexistent.
Why not spend some of my hard-earned cash on someone tall, dark, and temporary to relieve some of that anxiety? It’s for charity, after all. And if a few shared cocktails and slow dances lead to something more? Let’s just say, I am here for it. It’s been way too long since I’ve enjoyed a man’s company.
“Hey, Becca, do you think I stand a chance of snagging a date with Owen tonight?” Justin asks, raising his brows across the table at Becca, who rolls her eyes in response.
“Better you than one of these superfans.” She half scoffs, half giggles. “I’m worried I’m going to have to pull some middle-aged woman’s hands off my boyfriend’s butt in the middle of a slow dance.”
Owen squeezes Becca’s hand in reassurance. “Don’t worry, babe. You get to keep dating me for free tomorrow.”
That idiotic comment only earns him a sappy smile from Becca, and I sigh in exasperation.
Love makes you weird.
Justin takes a swig of beer and directs his attention to Teddy, who’s typing furiously on his phone. “What about you, TK? You’re up for grabs. Think I can nab you for the evening?”
Teddy King, a six-foot-three-inch wall of muscle with dark wavy hair and captivating green eyes, barely looks up from his phone. He’s been on it all night, and to be honest, it’s kind of annoying. Tonight is supposed to be a fun night with friends, not an opportunity for him to scroll through social media.
“Is your Instagram feed really that interesting, Teddy?” I say sassily, then sip my vodka soda.
I’m not one to pass up an opportunity to give him grief. We’re friends, no question, but he and I also have a bit of a history, which I choose to suppress by directing as many snarky comments his way as possible. His fingers tap angrily at his phone screen. I know from experience the way those thick fingers feel … the way his touch buzzes through my body, but tonight those strong hands won’t come anywhere near my bare skin.
“I’m dealing with something, okay?” His grips tightens around the phone and he lowers it, pocketing it beneath the table, as if to shield it from view. Usually, he’ll give me shit right back, but tonight, he looks up at me with a blend of alarm and frustration in his eyes.
I tense and lean back, giving him space. I can’t ignore the shot of panic that bolts down my spine, though.
It’s not like Teddy to be so closed off, especially at an event like this. Normally he’s so fun loving, constantly cracking jokes with his teammates, telling funny stories and laughing. Whatever is going on must be serious.
Part of me wants to ask him what’s wrong, but his eyes are already locked on his screen again, so I turn my attention back to the stage. Someone has just secured an evening with the quarterback of the Seattle Sirens, and I can’t help but feel the slightest pang of jealousy that I didn’t bid on that hunky piece of man meat. His broad shoulders look absolutely scrumptious in his fitted charcoal-gray tux. I can’t say I would mind clutching those while riding him all night long.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for athletes. In law school, I used to spend all my time studying in the library that overlooked the football field, and ever since, I’ve had a taste for men who know when to play by the rules and when to break them. The muscles, of course, are also a major selling point. As is their stamina. But it’s something about that gleam in their eyes, that competitive spirit that never quite leaves their system. It’s such a turn-on in the bedroom.
And that’s where I have to keep my affinity for athletes: in the bedroom, and not a step beyond.
Do you know what happens when you try to mix a lawyer’s ninety-hour workweek with an athlete’s insane practice schedule and constant travel? Me neither. But I know it can’t be good. Which is why I’ve kept my romantic life strictly between the sheets for the past year or so. Maybe it will be a different story when I become the first female partner at my law firm, but as long as I have something to prove in the office, the only serious relationship I’m allowing myself is with my work email in-box. I’m committed, what can I say?
Next up onstage is an Ice Hawks defenseman the team picked up this year. I can’t say I’ve spoken more than a half dozen words to the guy, but he fills out his suit in all the right ways, and for a moment, I consider putting in a bid. I’ve got the money to spend, and it’s really for two excellent causes: ending childhood hunger, and potentially setting myself up to receive a much-needed orgasm or two tonight from someone other than my vibrator.
Nope, nope, and nope. Check yourself before you wreck yourself, Sara.
I can only imagine the kind of conversations that go down in the Ice Hawks’ locker room, and I’d like to keep the details of my sex life as far away from the guys as possible. As it is, there’s already one player who knows a little too much about my likes and dislikes in the bedroom.
The crowd politely claps as the defenseman is auctioned off to a little boy and his mom, who look eager to get an autograph. Totally aw-worthy.
Aubree, who is slaying the role of tonight’s emcee, flips her notes to the next card. “Up next,” she says, “is Owen Parrish, the goalie of our very own Seattle Ice Hawks.”
The crowd cheers loudly, hooting and hollering for the much-loved star goalie.
As Owen stands to take the stage, Becca jolts up in her seat, throwing a hand in the air and yelling out her $100 bid. Someone immediately outbids her, and it doesn’t take long for Owen’s price to climb well over $400. At that point, Becca folds and takes her seat, grumbling and crossing her arms over her chest as Owen finally sells for nearly a grand.
“All that money to dance with Owen for a night?” Elise laughs. “I should show those women the video of him as a sheep in our elementary school Christmas pageant. The way he head-butted the angels during the big dance number would have them retracting their bids.”
“Sounds baaaaaaaaa-d.” Justin bleats, sending the whole table into giggles, Becca included.
“Speaking of bad,” Teddy whispers soft enough that only I can hear him. “Can we talk? We have a little bit of a situation on our hands.”
My brow creases as I appraise him. We? Our?
Teddy and I haven’t been a “we” since back in college. And even then, barely. We traded study notes and orgasms one semester before deciding we were better off as friends. It wasn’t even a big enough deal for us to tell our friend group about. What could possibly have him referring to us as a singular unit again?
“Now?” I whisper back, my eyes widening slightly. “Is it urgent?”
He gives me a firm nod. “I’d say it’s mega urgent.”
I glance around the hotel ballroom we’re in, looking for somewhere he and I can have a private conversation. We don’t have a ton of options without leaving the room altogether. Looks like I’m going to have to improvise.
“Bar. Now,” I whisper.
I make an excuse to the table about my vodka soda being too watered down and head for the bar. A few seconds later, Teddy stands up to join me.
As he walks my way, I can’t resist doing a once-over of his sculpted frame. I won’t lie, he’s hotter than sin, all of his muscles fully on display in that well-fitted tux. I mentally high-five College Sara for her good taste in sex partners.
“What’s going on?” I ask when he sidles up beside me, a frown etched across his full mouth.
“I just received a really threatening email.” Teddy’s green eyes cloud over with worry. “I think someone is trying to blackmail me. Which means I’m probably going to need a damn good lawyer, right?”
“Not probably. Definitely. I think I might know a good lawyer,” I tease, gesturing to myself. It was an attempt to lighten the mood, but the worry in Teddy’s eyes doesn’t let up, so I return to the issue at hand. “What kind of blackmail are they implying?”
He doesn’t have time to give me an answer before we’re interrupted by Aubree, continuing her emcee duties.
“We have one more date up for auction tonight. Our last hockey hottie of the evening, Teddy King.”
Teddy sighs. “I guess that’s my cue.” He forces a lighthearted smile as he smooths his dark hair with one hand and turns toward the stage.
Hopefully the rest of the guests can’t see through his strained smile the way I can. Whatever this email is about, it’s affecting him in a major way.
As I watch him onstage, I mentally catalog his attributes. He has the body of an athlete, that’s for sure. Tall. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. His hair is slightly disheveled from his roaming fingers, but it’s oddly endearing. There’s normally a playful look in his eyes, a smile that signals he’s ready for trouble, but tonight his look is somber, and I’m not sure what to make of that.
“Shall we start the bidding at two hundred?”
A bidder jumps in right away, then another and another until his going price is up to $500, the max budget I set for myself tonight. But I missed my opportunity to bid on the quarterback while being distracted with Teddy at the table, so I might as well save him from his own fake smile.
“One thousand dollars.” I raise my hand in the air, almost not recognizing my own voice when I bid.
Did I really just freaking do that?
Everyone at my table turns and gives me a dumbfounded look, and I can hardly keep my poker face in place.
Why the hell did I bid a grand to have a conversation with Teddy that we’re obviously going to have either way? Maybe because he said it was mega urgent? Maybe it was the worry in his voice? With the bid I just placed, I guess I’m hoping he wasn’t exaggerating.
“Going once? Going twice?” Aubree sweeps her glance over the room. “Sold, for a thousand dollars to my friend Sara Dawson.” She grins at me from the stage.
One thousand dollars. Twice my budget for the precise opposite of the date I was looking to snag tonight. This man owes me big-time, literally a grand’s worth.
I lift the hem of my red satin dress so I don’t trip in my heels on the walk up to the stage to claim my prize. Teddy King, a.k.a. TK, a.k.a. my college fling who I just dropped a grand on for what better be a damn good reason.
As the other winning couples filter out onto the dance floor, I spot Owen with his flirty forty-something date, with Becca watching like a hawk from a few feet away. A few of the other guys are signing autographs for some kids, and Elise is congratulating Aubree on her awesome job emceeing. Everyone is distracted, giving Teddy and me the perfect opportunity to slip away and hash out this blackmail situation.
“Thanks for bidding on me,” Teddy says, scrubbing his fingers through his hair as we duck out of the ballroom and into an adjacent conference room. It’s empty, of course, just a large conference table and a half dozen rolling chairs. “I was worried I was going to look like a second stringer if Owen sold for more than I did.”
“Your ego wasn’t my concern,” I say, clicking the door shut behind us. “I’m a bit more worried about this email situation.”
The smile on Teddy’s lips falls away. “Yeah, about that. The sender of the email is saying they’ve hacked into my cloud. And they’ve gotten their hands on a certain video and are threatening to release it.”
My eyebrows scrunch together. “What video?”
There’s a moment of silence as Teddy swallows, his eyes narrowing into a meaningful stare. “The video.”
Two words. That’s all it takes to drain all the blood from my face.
I steady myself, bracing one hand on the conference table until I can lower myself into a seat. The video? That can’t be possible. This has to be some kind of sick joke. The vodka soda in my stomach sours.
“I don’t understand. We deleted every single copy of that video back in college.”
Teddy hangs his head, fisting his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I know I said that. But I may have, you know, held on to one personal copy—for sentimental reasons.”
My chest tightens as all the air in my lungs disappears. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s my bad.” He sounds sincere, but when he finally looks up at me, there’s a hint of uncertainty on his face. “It’s just . . . that shit was hot, you know? That was my first and only sex tape, Sara. I couldn’t just delete it.”
What the actual hell?
If I didn’t have such good self-control, I would be strangling him with the strap of my purse right now. Teddy promised me years ago that every trace of that video had been wiped out, deleted, never to be seen again. And now some creepy hacker dude has his grubby hands on it and is threatening to release it? How long until it’s plastered onto websites around the globe? We’ll both be completely ruined.
My heart hammers against my ribs, and I feel like punching something.
There must be steam coming out of my ears, because Teddy starts laying the apologies on thick. “Listen, Sara. I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to betray your trust like that. It’s just I never thought it would get out.”
I swear I can hear my pulse rioting in my veins, but as it gets progressively louder, I realize it’s someone knocking at the door.
“Hey, lovebirds,” a familiar voice calls. Owen. “I’ve got something for you.” He slips something small and silver beneath the door. A condom.
Freaking great. Now our friends think we’re hooking up.
And unless we can stop this creepy computer genius snooping through Teddy’s in-box, they’re going to have video evidence soon.
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