“He’s a surgeon,” she said, leaning to whisper toward Leila. “He was my surgeon. He operated on my appendix.”
Her friend shook her head. “And he didn’t remember you?”
“I don’t want him to remember me!” she exclaimed in a low whisper. “Do you know how bad I looked when they brought me into the emergency room? Besides, he wasn’t supposed to be there. There was another doctor who was supposed to be covering the emergency room but they couldn’t find him. He was the doctor who was filling in.”
Leila grinned. “So, do you plan to bid on him?”
Talisa grinned back. “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”
Her friend nodded her head up and down excitedly. “It is for a good cause. You could use a man.”
Talisa laughed, the warmth of the vibration causing her to shake in her seat.
Mya turned to stare curiously. “What are you two whispering about?” she asked, looking from Talisa to Leila.
“Talisa’s trying to decide whether she should go after a doctor or not. What do you think?”
“If she doesn’t, I surely will. I’ve got my eye on John the attorney, Bradley the basketball player, and Stephan the general contractor. Any one of them will do quite nicely.”
Benita rolled her eyes. “Do you have that kind of money?”
Mya shrugged. “I’ve got Visa, MasterCard, and American Express. One, or the other, or all three of them will buy me a man this night.”
The group laughed. Their chattering was interrupted by an elegant black woman who approached the microphone at the podium, gesturing for the few persons standing to take a seat. Standing prim and proper in a classic-cut, blue pinstripe suit and a white lace top, she epitomized the mood of the evening. Talisa imagined her to be as old as her own mother was, but her obvious wealth enabled her to wear her age well. This woman lacked the tired stress lines that graced Talisa’s mother’s face. The woman’s Hershey’s dark chocolate complexion was virtually blemish free. Wherein Mary London rarely bothered with manicures and had never had a pedicure, it was obvious that their hostess for the evening probably never missed her weekly appointments. With her dark hair pulled back into a neat French twist, she was sophisticated and beautiful and Talisa couldn’t help herself from wishing that time would serve her at least half as well. She leaned forward in her seat and listened intently as the woman clasped her hands in front of herself and spoke into the microphone.
“Good evening and welcome to our first ever bachelor auction! My name is Irene Becton and I’m the president of the Center for Women’s Resources. We are absolutely thrilled to welcome you all here tonight. I’m not going to bore you with a long speech about why this evening is so important to the center and the hospital. I know all of you are here because you want to make a difference in someone else’s life. I’m also sure all those handsome, intelligent, sexy men who are standing backstage waiting to walk the runway for you had no influence whatsoever on your decision to be here.” Irene paused and smiled as the audience laughed heartily.
“So, allow me to say thank you in advance. The donations you make tonight will make a significant impact in a child’s life and your support will make all the difference in the world. So, with no further delay, I’ll turn our program over to our guest auctioneer, local radio personality, Mr. Jarred Nelson. Please, sit back, enjoy, bid, and bid well!”
Talisa watched as the woman made her way to the rear of the stage and disappeared behind the black velvet curtains. She wondered if the woman was any relation to Jericho—they had the same last name. His mother, perhaps. Her thoughts shifted back to the auction as the lights in the room dimmed ever so slightly and the piano player revved up his tune. A spotlight fell on the tall, mocha-toned, gray-haired man who stood in the space Mrs. Becton had just vacated.
The maple-syrup timbre of the man’s voice filled the room, sending a chill up the spine of every woman who sat listening as he introduced the first of many men who were scheduled to make an appearance before the evening was over.
Chapter 4
Jericho stood against a rear wall of the large ballroom, his arms crossed evenly over his broad chest. He knew the woman from somewhere, but he couldn’t for the life of himself remember where. He’d noticed her the minute she’d walked in, his gaze following her to the buffet table, and watching as she’d engaged in conversation with the two men who’d stood like bookends beside her.
She was full-figured, a perfectly proportioned beauty who would have easily been labeled voluptuous. The dress she wore had hugged her curves like a second skin and he’d felt his body quiver with intrigue as he’d watched her. From where he’d stood, he thought she embodied the image of the woman the Commodores had sung about on that old song, “Brick House.” The old rap song by Sir Mix-A-Lot, “Baby Got Back,” was just as fitting. Although she was a definite beauty, there was clearly nothing vain about her. Her shoulder-length hair had appeared windblown, soft brown curls billowing around her oval-shaped face. Her makeup was simple at best, just a coat of lipstick across her mouth and a touch of eyeliner beneath her eyes. Not an ounce of foundation touched her clear, copper complexion. And there had been something in her eyes when her gaze had met his that had reduced him to a weak mass, spinning heat from one end of his body to the other. His thoughts were still on the woman he’d just met when his mother came up beside him, slipping her arm beneath his.
“Nervous?” Irene asked, leaning to kiss her son’s cheek.
Jericho shrugged, pushing his shoulders skyward. “Not really. Just ready for this to be over.”
“You need to relax and have some fun,” the woman said smiling. “There are some beautiful, intelligent women out there.”
Jericho shrugged again. “Did you get to meet any of the women at the reception?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers evenly.
“No, dear. I was too busy down here. How did it go?”
“There was one woman I met briefly. Her name was Talisa London. She looked very familiar.”
Irene’s expression was pensive as she mulled the name over in her mind. She shook her head from side to side. “Sorry, baby. It doesn’t ring a bell. Could you know this woman from the hospital?”
“I don’t know. I recognize her from somewhere though.”
His mother nodded. “Well, don’t let it bother you. The minute you stop thinking about it the answer will come.” She reached to adjust her son’s bow tie. “You look quite dashing.”
Jericho chuckled. “Thank you.”
“Do me proud,” she said, giving him a pat on the back as the event coordinator called him to get in line to await his turn.
Jericho grimaced, heaving a deep sigh as he stepped toward the front curtains.
Behind him, his mother called out his name.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Good luck, baby.”
The emcee had rolled Jericho’s name off his tongue with relative ease, the sound of it calling
