to buy earlier. But he was...intriguing. His hair was a rich, glossy brown that glinted in the sun. It was brushed neatly back from a tanned, angular face creased by sexy dimples. From where she sat, his eyes looked very blue, his teeth very white. He held his chin tucked down a bit, so that he seemed to be looking up from beneath his lashes. His brow was creased in an endearingly bemused expression, as if the rowdy attention he was getting from the audience was something he hadn’t expected when he’d signed up for this.
His dark suit fit him to perfection, displaying impressive shoulders, a solid chest and narrow hips. He wore a snowy white shirt and a boldly colored geometric tie. His western boots made her frown a bit, since they didn’t quite fit the image, but then she smiled, deciding he’d probably worn the boots as a tribute to the ranch. Regarded in that respect, it was actually a very sweet gesture.
Someone bid twenty-five hundred dollars.
He certainly looked like a conservative, respectable businessman, Blair mused. And that somewhat befuddled smile could indicate a slight shyness that Jeffrey would identify with. Whatever problems Scott McKay had faced as a boy, he’d apparently put them well behind him. Would he know what to say to a child whose hurt and anger were propelling him down the wrong path?
“Do I hear three thousand dollars?” the auctioneer sang out.
Blair drew a deep breath and lifted her hand, calling once again on the Townsend boldness she so rarely indulged.
“All right. You’re back in the bidding,” the young woman at her left said with a laugh.
Someone else bid thirty-five hundred, followed by a bid for four thousand.
Once again, Blair’s hand shot into the air, raising the stakes to forty-five hundred.
“He is pretty,” the brunette mused. “And he sure sounds like a fun date.”
A fun date? Was there something Blair had missed that she should know? The bidding rose to five thousand dollars, more than she’d intended to spend. She gulped and upped it to fifty-five hundred.
“Wow. You must really like that sexy smile,” the woman next to her murmured.
Blair almost answered that the man’s sexy smile had nothing to do with this. She was buying him for her nephew, not for herself. Although, if she was buying a man for herself, this was definitely one who...
She shook her head, telling herself to concentrate on what she was doing—and why. She waved her hand again when the bidding rose to sixty-five hundred. Scott McKay looked in her direction and grinned.
“Oh, lordy,” the brunette said with a sigh.
Oh, lordy, Blair echoed silently, her nerve endings all aquiver from the smile he’d sent her way.
“Sold for sixty-five hundred dollars,” the auctioneer called. “The residents of Lost Springs Ranch greatly appreciate your generosity, ma’am. Now, let’s hear a warm welcome for our next bachelor....”
“Way to go!” The woman beside Blair cheered, clapping Blair on the back. “You bought yourself a hunk for a weekend.”
“Oh, but I...” Blair’s words dissolved into a groan as the full impact of what she had done sank in. What on earth was she going to do with a hunk for a weekend?
* * *
HAVING ALWAYS BEEN the type to want things settled very quickly, Blair wrote out her check to the auction officials, then immediately went looking for Scott McKay. She wanted to let him know exactly why she had purchased his services—just in case he’d gotten the wrong idea.
She didn’t find him among the other bachelors milling in the arena, surrounded by their buyers and other admirers. She finally located an auction volunteer, a young man who nodded in response to her question and led her to one of the cozy one-room, one-bath cottages where overnight guests and visiting directors were occasionally housed. “He’s in here,” he said, and knocked on the door. “Mr. McKay? Your buyer wants to meet you.”
Blair’s cheeks flamed. She didn’t particularly like being referred to as his buyer. It sounded so ridiculous.
The cottage door opened. And Blair discovered that Scott McKay was even more attractive close up than he had been from the risers. So polished and dignified, she thought in approval. Obviously an important businessman. He looked her over as the volunteer hurried away, leaving them alone. “Hi. So you’re the one who bought me?”
“Well, um, yes. I’m Blair Townsend.”
“And I,” he said, giving her a smile that could have melted concrete, “am delighted.”
Oh, heavens. Blair cleared her throat. “Mr. McKay...”
“Scott. Please, come in.”
“Well, I—”
He reached out, took her arm and hauled her into the neatly furnished little cottage, talking the whole time. “I gotta tell you, Blair,” he said, closing the door. “I was a little worried about who would buy me. Did you see the women out there? Some of them looked like they wanted to eat us alive. And that little granny who bought Rob? What do you suppose she wanted, a grandson for a weekend?”
“I’m not—”
He reached for his tie, yanking it loose and over his head, still knotted. The movement mussed his hair from the neatly brushed-back style of before, causing a heavy lock to fall forward on his forehead. “I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t have done this for anyone but Lindsay. I’d rather bungee jump off the Empire State Building or wrestle the meanest bull ever born than stand up on that auction block again.”
Bungee jump? Wrestle bulls? That didn’t sound like something a conservative businessman would say. “Scott, I...”
He tossed his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs and reached for the top button of his shirt. “Anyway, I hope they made enough money today to keep them afloat—maybe enough positive PR to keep the donations coming in. Too many kids out there would be in a spit-load of trouble without this place.”
“Yes, I know it’s—”
“Thanks to people like you, Lindsay’s got a real chance to make it. Sixty-five hundred dollars...well, that was incredibly generous. I’ll have to make sure,” he added with a grin, “that you get your money’s worth.”
He stripped off his shirt and tossed it toward the same chair that held his jacket. His bare chest was broad, tanned...and made Blair’s heart almost stop. Her fingers curled at her sides—she assured herself it wasn’t an effort for her to keep from reaching out to touch all that lovely expanse of male skin. She lied, of course.
“Mr. McKay!” she sputtered. “What are you doing?”
“I’m changing clothes,” he said with a smile that was suspiciously bland. “I hate wearing suits, but I thought we were supposed to dress up for this thing. Come to think about it, Lindsay was the one who suggested the tie. I’ll have to figure out a way to repay her for that.”
He snatched a duffel bag off the couch and moved toward the bathroom. “I’ll finish changing in here. Help yourself to something to drink, if you like. There are sodas and juice
