Bending to the Bachelor's Will

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Charlise walked her to the door. “Holly, have a great night, but don’t forget what we said.”

As if she could.

Eric Alden. Good in bed.

Not something she needed to know.

Eric had never had to work so hard to hold a woman’s attention. Frustrated by his failure, he glanced at Holly and then turned his Corvette down Carolina Beach Road, heading toward her house. He hoped the reporter wasn’t waiting for them because another kiss wasn’t on his agenda. Too risky, and he wasn’t into risky ventures.

During dinner, he’d exhausted every topic of conversation from weather to work to Holly’s brothers. They’d found very little common ground other than the physical awareness between them that each seemed determined to ignore.

His mother had planned the auction package and the dates behind his back, but she’d done so knowing his preference for quiet restaurants, spectacular food, a good wine list and exemplary service. Clearly those qualities didn’t rate as high on Holly’s list.

Would he have to pull another tourist attraction out of his hat to salvage the evening? And what did he know about tourist spots except whether they were a good financial risk when the owners submitted loan applications?

Holly straightened abruptly, her gaze fastening on the brightly lit miniature golf place. She hadn’t shown that much animation all night. Before he could think twice Eric steered his car off the highway, found a spot in the gravel lot and killed the engine.

Holly eyed him as if he’d lost his mind. “I don’t remember this being part of your date package.”

“Neither was the haunted theater tour.” He thrust open his door. By the time he rounded the hood, Holly waited for him on the sidewalk. She’d worn another figure-concealing outfit tonight, but it didn’t matter how loosely the paisley skirt and blue-green top fit. He’d seen the generous curves Holly concealed. Unfortunately. It didn’t help that the irregular skirt hem fluttered around her legs in the balmy evening breeze, reminding him exactly how long and sleekly muscled her limbs were.

“I’m going to kick your butt, you know. I’m good.”

The excitement shining in her eyes hit him hard and fast. He blamed the swift adrenaline rush on his competitive nature. “Don’t issue challenges you can’t back up, Ms. Prescott.”

He paid the fee, chose a ball and selected a club. Holly took the putter away from him and wiggled her fingers at the clerk behind the counter. The guy dragged two clubs with longer shafts from under the counter. That Holly knew the guy had a secret stash made Eric wonder how often she’d frequented the place.

Holly handed Eric a putter. “Have you ever played?”

No, but he played golf and he putted well. How hard could miniature golf be? Too bad he didn’t have his custom-fitted clubs with him. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Would you care to make a wager?”

He rarely gambled. “Like what?”

“If I win, we substitute one of my favorite restaurants for one of the stuffy places on your list.”

“You didn’t enjoy tonight’s meal?”

She wrinkled her nose. “The food was good, but every time I took a sip of wine the waiter rushed forward to refill my glass. It got to the point where I didn’t want to drink anything because it made extra work for him, and I had no idea how much I’d had to drink.”

“He gave exceptionally good service and was rewarded for it. That’s his job.”

“Good or not, it’s disconcerting to know someone is watching your every move. Jeez, what if I’d picked up the wrong fork?” She lined up her putt and talked right through it. “And what if you and I had been on a hot date and we wanted to be alone? Having Don hover, however nice and attentive he was, was like having a chaperone.”

Eric had never had the kind of date she described. Even if he’d known the woman in question would end the evening in his bed, he had never noticed or minded the interruptions. He never allowed himself to become that needy for a woman’s attentions. And he never would.

“How can you relax and enjoy your meal when the whole point of eating in a place like that is being seen by the right people?” Holly’s ball rattled in the cup.

Eric frowned at the L-shaped green. Her statements had surprised him so much he’d forgotten to study her technique. “There isn’t a straight shot. How did you make a hole in one?”

She shrugged. “Physics. You have to bank the ball off the right spot in the wall. Like billiards.”

Billiards he understood. He lined up, tapped the ball and missed the cup by inches. Holly’s lipstick-free lips curved. Had he ever dated a woman who didn’t excuse herself immediately after the meal to freshen her makeup? Holly hadn’t bothered. She’d been too eager to leave the restaurant. And him?

Eric gritted his teeth, studied the artificial turf, lined up and then stroked again. And missed.

“Don’t give up now. It’s a par three,” she said too cheerfully, clearly anticipating a victory. The constant awareness of her made concentrating difficult, but he focused and made the shot. “Eric, relax. It’s just a game.”

Just a game. Clearly, Holly didn’t remember from their basketball games how badly he hated to lose.

Seventeen holes later, she’d trounced him, truly and embarrassingly trounced him, and her grin as she bounced back to the car was wide enough to drive a truck through.

“You made that look easy,” he said before turning the key in the ignition.

“And I’m sure you’ve heard the cliché, ‘Appearances can be deceiving.’ This is the course closest to my house, so it’s familiar terrain. How else would I know Ira kept the good clubs behind the counter?”

Card shark. Pool shark. Was there such thing as a miniature golf shark? Because without a doubt he’d been hustled, and he had only himself to blame. He’d underestimated Holly. He wouldn’t again.

Traffic was light. In twenty minutes he could drop Holly off, head home and study the latest merger data in preparation for tomorrow’s meeting. Why didn’t that plan appeal?

“What other sports should I avoid if I want to escape total humiliation at your hands?” Her chuckle washed over him like a warm summer breeze, and her scent tantalized him in the close confines of the car.

He needed to buy her a bottle of perfume. Smelling an expensive concoction worn by thousands of women would be easier than knowing the alluring scent filling his lungs was uniquely Holly’s. He cranked up the air-conditioning.

“Just be glad Octavia wasn’t there to witness your loss or she’d have eviscerated you in her Saturday column. She has a thing about dominating men. But your secret’s safe with me.”

Holly had evaded his question by bringing up a larger issue. He let her get away with redirecting the conversation to focus on the gauntlet ahead. How could he escape kissing her again? Not just tonight, but each of the next nine dates? “Do you think she’ll be waiting at your house tonight?”

Holly flashed him a guilty glance. “I didn’t tell her about the date.”

Satisfied that he could end the date without a casualty, he nodded. “Neither did I.”

“According to the auction’s fine print—which I finally read this afternoon—we’re supposed to tell her about each date ahead of time so she can observe if she wants.”

“She saw the end of our last date.” The memory of Holly’s kisses brought a flash fire of heat. “We’ll tell her next time.”

By then he’d have devised a few evasive techniques. He turned down Holly’s driveway. A canine chorus shattered the silence. “Something wrong?”

“Probably just a raccoon or a possum sniffing around the barn for food, or maybe just the sound of a strange car, but I always check the kennels before going to bed, so soon I’ll know.”

“You check them alone?”

“What? You think I need a bodyguard to protect me from the boogeyman?”

She lived in a rural, sparsely populated area, and while her yard might be well-lit, there was no telling what or who could hide in the shadows of her outbuildings. And why did he care? Holly wasn’t his concern. “I’ll walk with you.”

“That’s really not necessary, but c’mon if you insist. You might decide to take someone home with you tonight.”

His gaze jerked toward hers. “Pardon?”

“A four-legged someone,” she clarified. “I have a Shepherd mix that would be perfect for you. He’s picky about his food and full of himself, too.”

The comment shouldn’t have surprised him. Holly had needled him subtly, but consistently throughout the evening, like an adversary trying to pull an opponent’s head out of the game. Why did he tolerate it? He didn’t have an answer, but he suspected it had something to do with enjoying a woman who didn’t agree with everything he said. Dating a woman who dared to challenge his opinions was a novel experience. Money, he’d discovered, not only brought power, it bought people. But not Holly.

He followed her to the barn. She flicked on the lights and he stopped in surprise. He’d expected to see wooden stalls as weathered as the exterior, but instead the structure had been gutted. A concrete floor stretched from end to end, and a half-dozen spacious chain-link kennels lined either side of the wide aisle. Each cage held at least one dog and a plush bed for each mutt. The closest held a lab-type bitch and her pups. “These are all strays?”

“Yes. It’s disheartening how some people can discard a loved one when she no longer suits them.”

She? Eric’s gaze sought Holly’s face, but she’d turned away. She was talking about the animals, wasn’t she?

She walked along the aisle dispensing dog treats and chatting with each occupant for a moment before pulling a lever that opened exterior doors to the dog runs surrounding the barn. Apparently, each kennel had a private run.

“Your renovations must have been expensive, and upkeep must be costly.”

Her gaze hit his and her cinnamon eyebrows arched, disappearing beneath shaggy bangs. “Why do you think I agreed to buy you? You promised money for my family. Thanks for the check, by the way.”

He’d given her the check the moment he’d arrived this evening, leaving no chance for another oversight.

But what did she mean by referring to these mutts as her family? Her family owned the most prestigious country club on the east coast, complete with a marina and an award-winning golf course. “You’re welcome.”

“See anyone you want to take home? They’ve had all their shots and been neutered except for Cleo. She can’t be spayed until the pups are weaned in a few weeks.”

“I don’t have time for a dog.”

Holly stepped into the bitch’s cage and lifted a fat black puppy. “How can you resist an adorable face like this one?”

The dog’s face didn’t interest him half as much as Holly’s as she nuzzled the squirmy ball of fur. There was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction in her eyes and a softness in her features he hadn’t seen before, as if she’d finally let her prickly guard down. “You enjoy caring for these mutts.”

She looked up at him through copper-tipped lashes. “Everybody needs love.”

She shoved the pup into his arms. He stiffened. “I don’t think—”

“A dog would help you unwind, Eric.”

He held the mutt and made a mental note to take the suit to the cleaners tomorrow. A long pink tongue swiped his chin. Yuck. “I don’t need to unwind.”

She snorted. “This from the guy who had a white-knuckled grip on his putter. Give me a break, Alden. You’re as tightly strung as a clothesline.”

He’d never owned a dog or even a fish. His mother hadn’t allowed pets of any kind in her professionally decorated home. But he had to admit holding the warm, wiggly creature wasn’t entirely unpleasant—if the mutt would quit trying to French-kiss him.

Holly grinned, took the pup back and returned him to his pen. She lavished attention on each of the remaining littermates before letting herself out of the kennel.

“Okay, if I can’t convince you to take a friend home, then I guess we’re done here.”

“We could post bulletin boards in the bank branches showing the dogs you have for adoption.” What in the hell was he saying? Banking was business. There was no room in his bank or his life for sloppy sentiment and that’s what these castoff mutts evoked.

Holly’s eyes widened in surprise. “That would be great, but I have a feeling your mother will veto that idea.”

That lifted his hackles. Margaret Alden ran the banking chain with an iron fist, but on this he would not bend. He’d never let his mother dominate him the way she did his father. Holly wanted to find homes for her menagerie and he had the power to help her.

“It’s a public service and good community relations. She’ll agree.” He’d make damned sure of it.

And before he did something else stupid like kiss that wide smile off Holly’s unpainted lips, Eric turned on his heel and headed for his car. Holly had him using sentiment instead of sense, and that was a dangerous practice he had no intention of continuing.

Entering Alden Bank and Trust as a customer was one thing. Showing up at the main branch on Friday morning and demanding to see the VP without an appointment was another.

Holly felt the curious gazes of countless bank employees like glass slivers in her back as she climbed the wide marble staircase leading from the main floor to the offices on the second-floor balcony. The weight of those stares added ten pounds to the load she carried.

Her heart thumped harder. Why did being here make her nervous? She’d grown up in affluent circles surrounded by the community’s movers and shakers, and she’d visited Alden’s corporate offices before. In fact, Juliana’s office lay on the opposite side of the balcony overlooking the lobby. Holly glanced that way and saw her friend’s dark head bent over her desk. The glass-walled offices on this floor reminded Holly of cages at a zoo. How could Juliana stand it? Holly knew she’d go nuts locked away and on display.

Holly followed the directions the teller had given her to Eric’s office and caught a glimpse of him through the open blinds as she approached the desk of the woman guarding his domain. Before she could tell his dragon of an administrative assistant that, yes, she was the pushy broad who’d dared to ask the teller to call up and announce her arrival, Eric looked up from his desk. Holly’s pulse stuttered and her steps slowed as their gazes met through the glass.

Great kisser.

Good in bed.

Girl, don’t even go there.

She wished the women had never told her of Eric’s prowess between the sheets. That was the last thing her I-haven’t-had-any-in-a-long-while body needed to hear. Her dates with Eric had nothing to do with either kissing or sex, but her deprived hormones seemed to have trouble getting the message. She’d even dreamed about him last night. Ridiculous, considering all she wanted to do was get through these dates so she could focus on locating Lyle and her money.