“Yeah, we’re packed. We’ll make a huge chunk of change for the shelter tonight. I’ve got to get the ladies settled in their booths. Ryan, sit here next to your dad. You can even ask a question if you want.”
“Wow.”
Dillon watched Ryan wriggle into the offered chair, relieved that Jake had no problem including his son.
“Wow yourself, little buddy.” Ruffling Ryan’s hair, Jake pinned on the boy’s microphone, then turned laughter-filled eyes toward Dillon. “Good luck. I’m betting you’re going to find the perfect woman tonight.”
His friend’s short laugh, before disappearing around the partition that blocked Dillon’s view of the other contestants, filled Dillon with foreboding. Partly because of Jake’s recent insistence that he and Ryan needed a change of location, he’d decided to leave Seattle for the smaller, more comfortable Oregon river city of Portland.
Now, he had a familiar feeling his friend was up to no good. He watched as elegantly dressed dinner guests were shown to the tables within his field of vision. “No good” was his buddy’s speciality.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen. It’s time to begin,” Jake’s voice announced. “Let me start out by thanking each of you for coming tonight to help support this very worthy cause. Remember, at the back of the room is a silent auction. All proceeds made tonight will go directly to the East Side Women’s Shelter….”
Maybe his friend was right. There were three eligible women on the other side of the wall that separated him and Ryan from them. One of the ladies could be just what he was looking for…an addition to the list he’d left safely at home.
“For a surprise addition, we have not one bachelor, but two very eligible bachelors, father and son, who will pick a very lucky bachelorette….”
Eleanor stopped squirming in the hard chair Jake had shown her to, suspicion splashing her with a cold panic that was rapidly turning to anger.
He wouldn’t. The one person in the whole world she trusted, wouldn’t do this to her, would he? Yes…he would, a small voice offered its opinion in her mind. Eleanor spit silent curses at her brother. The three-sided cubicle where she sat, unable to lay her hands on him, revealed only an excited audience, beginning their dinner as they eagerly waited for the “dating game” to begin.
“Bachelor senior. Why don’t you start with your first question. We have three lovely ladies for you to choose from. Will it be Bachelorette number one? Bachelorette number two? Or Bachelorette number three?”
“Bachelorette number three. What are your hobbies?”
Eleanor almost groaned aloud when she heard the unforgettable, familiar voice ask his first question amid cheers and catcalls from the audience. She wasn’t prepared for the deep impact of his voice that ignited undisciplined awareness like Fourth of July fireworks.
“Bachelorette number three?” Dillon’s dark, gravelly voice washed her in unexplained waves of startled sensation.
Clearing the lump suddenly lodged in her throat, Eleanor blurted without thinking, “I don’t have any hobbies.”
“I see. How about Bachelorette number two?”
What did he see? Eleanor wondered angrily, feeling both foolish and irritated. Only what she wanted him to see. Which was nothing.
The honey tones used by the other two ladies to answer the law professor’s question made Eleanor sick to her stomach. There was no way she was going to try to sell herself to this man by sugarcoating her responses just for his benefit.
“Bachelorette number three. What are your favorite foods?”
This time Eleanor was prepared. Carefully modulating her voice, she responded, “I’m a vegetarian.” Well, she was.
“And…?”
“And, I like vegetables.”
Dillon looked at Ryan, his eyebrows lifting in question. There was something familiar about that voice, even though it was masked by the microphone and her abrupt responses.
Briefly, whiskey-colored eyes flashed bright in Dillon’s mind and the last puzzle piece fell into place. So, that’s what all Jake’s meddling was about. He had three ladies to choose from. Of course, he wasn’t going to pick Eleanor just because she was Jake’s sister. The guy could be a loose cannon, but this little maneuver absolutely took the cake.
Eleanor stared out at the audience. The dinner was being catered by attendants dressed sharply in white shirts, black bow ties and black dress slacks. The tables were elegantly covered in gold tablecloths. And, without exception, every female eye in the place was focused on the left side of the stage, where she was sure Dillon sat with his little boy.
Heated with disgust, she unbuttoned the top button of the white blouse that seemed bent on choking her and renewed her earlier vow not to stoop to competing for the man’s attention. Purposely, she answered each question Dillon asked her in the most bored, disinterested way she could, discouraging any idea the man might have of picking her, while the other ladies blatantly threw themselves at him. Their sugary, come-park-your-shoes-under-my-bed responses made her stomach queasy.
When Jake stepped into her line of vision, frowning at her, Eleanor felt a small pinpoint of malicious satisfaction. She arched her eyebrows at him, smiled sweetly and wished him at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. It warmed her sense of revenge when his frown deepened.
If she could just get to him, she would really hurt Jake, Eleanor promised, finding herself perched on the edge of her seat, leaning out of the small cubicle that marked her end of the stage.
Pushing her glasses farther up her nose, she briefly glanced toward the other end of the raised platform. Three additional cubicles, undoubtedly perfect matches to hers, stretched across the stage in a half moon, the two middle ones recessed slightly away from the audience. Suddenly, Eleanor found herself traitorously wondering what it would be like to be chosen by Dillon Stone. What would it be like to be the woman he would want to spend the rest of his life with?
Before she could break away from that heart-pounding thought, a solemn face peeked around the front of the bachelor cubicle. Serious eyes studied her without blinking. A sudden smile shattered the illusion of an adult packed secretly into the small boy’s body.
Ryan.
The longing in his watchful eyes assailed Eleanor with an unfamiliar urge to take the small, serious child and fold him close in her arms. Tentatively, she smiled back.
“Bachelorette number three?” Dillon’s annoyed voice broke the fragile connection she’d made with the child.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the question,” she said as she removed her glasses and winked at Ryan, who was still watching her curiously.
“Where is your favorite place to vacation?” Dillon repeated, patience struggling with the irritation lacing his voice.
“I don’t go on vacation,” Eleanor answered truthfully, her mind still on a little boy’s heartbreaking smile as she scooted back into the uncomfortable chair.
“Okay…” The increasingly frustrated voice plowed
