“Oh, yeah,” he said. “You look absolutely lovely tonight. Do I remember correctly
that April said that you modeled or something at a dress shop?”
Jenna smiled at April. Bull obviously knew all the right things to say to women. Maybe
that was why April was feeling the way she did. But she didn’t think so. She simply
needed to keep her wits about her because his good looks and charm threatened to disarm
her tonight. So, April needed to be on high alert.
Chapter Eight
April was enjoying herself more than she cared to admit at the silent charity auction,
and she hadn’t even made it into the room with all the donated items to bid.
She couldn’t help but notice how the ladies all looked at Bull with something between
intrigue and apprehension, and at her with something between envy and concern. A tingly
part inside her also toyed with the same dangerous attraction to Bull. She knew he
came from a different world, but she wanted to touch him, inhale him, kiss him.
Even Jenna was smitten after all the compliments. Jenna batted her lashes with every
other word. Either she had something in her eye, or she was flirting with Bull. April
wasn’t sure, but something was going on. All innocent, of course.
Bull looked at April and said, “I believe I must be standing beside the two most beautiful
and best-dressed women in the whole place.” He slipped his hand into hers.
Jenna ran her palms over the little black chiffon number she was wearing and said,
“Oh, this thing? I pull it out when I have nothing else to wear.”
Bull’s eyes were still locked on April. “Well, it’s very handsome on you. And April
is gorgeous.”
“Yes, she is,” Jenna said in her best Southern drawl. “I helped her pick out her dress
today at
Enjoliver!
, the dress shop where I work. It’s French, you know. The name means, Dress Up.” Then
Jenna started in with her bad high school French. “All she needs for the upcoming
season is a fancy shap-o with some pale pee-teet roses on it.”
“
Parle vous Francis
?” Bull asked Jenna as he ran his fingers across the top of April’s hand.
“
Oui
. Un pee-teet,” Jenna said.
Petit
had to have been her favorite word in the whole French language. She abused it all
the time.
Bull began conversing with Jenna in the romantic language, to April’s amazement, and
Jenna answered back in the best amateur French she could muster.
April’s friend was all giggles and smiles. Bull had won her over. For April.
“Where’d you learn to speak so fluently?” April asked Bull.
“In college. And afterward, when I toured France on my bike,” he said.
Well, well, well. College educated and world traveled. This man surprised her at every
turn. She could tell that Jenna was as impressed as she was.
“If it’s not Mr. Clayton,” said a handsomely groomed man who walked up behind Bull.
He had very dark hair with a few pieces of deep auburn sprinkled through his short,
neatly trimmed sideburns. “Fancy meeting you here. And who are these lovely ladies
you’re escorting?”
Bull introduced them to his friend, Hogan Thorpe, who had on a red power tie over
his white collared shirt.
Jenna’s face brightened even more, if that were possible. “Did anyone or anything
special bring you here tonight?” she asked.
“I donated some items from my business,” Hogan said. “And what about you, pretty lady?”
April knew Jenna’s wheels were turning. Businessmen—successful ones—always impressed
Jenna.
“I’m here to support Ben…and be with my friend,” Jenna said. She flipped her short,
stylish, blond hair with her hand. “And to donate something from the dress shop where
I model.”
Oh, boy. Jenna was laying on the Southern charm as thick as honeysuckle on a garden
fence.
The two talked like they had been friends for years. Jenna intermittently glanced
at April and smiled. Jenna flipped her hair again, bit her bottom lip, and closed
and opened her eyes slowly. April knew when Jenna started the eye thing, she was in
hyper-flirt mode. She absolutely loved the attention she was getting from the man.
But it was nothing compared to the stares and attention coming to April from Bull.
“Would you like to sit?” he asked. “Are you warm enough? Would you like more punch?
Are you hungry?”
He surveyed the room. He probably suspected some of these people knew about his past
with the Rebels. In Bull’s presence, somehow the appeal of the country club crowd
and her desire to join the Ladies League faded. Jenna would always be her best friend—even
if they never worked on one single cookbook committee together.
“I’m fine,” she said and shivered a bit. Physically she was. There had been no overt
confrontation with anyone about Bull being there. Not that she’d expected any from
the men wearing Brooks Brothers suits. Or the women wearing colorful designer dresses.
With their faux politeness. Yeah, she’d seen the averted glances. Yeah. They knew
about his past all right. And, yeah, they were simply going to have to deal with it
all tonight.
Still, she wouldn’t trade places with any other woman in the room. Bull was enchanting,
and she gave herself permission to be enchanted—at least while they were working together.
They were here to do a job—for Ben. That was enough. Her ultimate justification.
Jenna continued to make a fool of herself with her incessant giggling and continual
use of the word
petit
any time she could slip it into the conversation.
Looking down at his empty cup, Hogan asked, “Anyone else interested in more punch?”
“Un pee-teet.” Jenna formed a small visual aid with her thumb and index finger.
Everyone in the little group chimed in.
Bull said, “I’ll help.”
That was when Hogan turned around and Jenna nearly fainted.
Hogan had a mullet. Yep. A bona fide mullet—the proverbial business in the front and
party in the back.
His hair was short and groomed around his face, but falling from his neck was a mane
of nearly black hair, almost the same color as his suit—obviously the reason they
hadn’t noticed it before. That and because he hadn’t left Jenna’s side since he’d
arrived.
The men were a few paces away when Jenna gasped. “April, didn’t those things disappear
twenty years ago? He was so handsome that I
flirted
with him. I even asked him to sit with us. What am I going to do?”
April needed to be asking herself that same question about Bull. “I can’t help you
out there. I’ve got my own troubles.” Delicious ones, but troubles nonetheless.
Jenna looked around the room.
“Don’t even think about leaving. Not before they announce the winner of the jacket.
Bull and I will leave then, too,” April said. “And I’m sure Hogan doesn’t belong to
any gangs or anything. You heard him. He’s a businessman in town.”
“You don’t know anything about him, either. Who are you these days?” Jenna asked.
April sighed. “Please. It won’t be long. You don’t have to marry the guy. Just talk
to him for a few more minutes.”
“April!” Jenna’s look was stern, but she couldn’t finish her reprimand because the
two men walked back up with drinks in their hands.
A noise squelched over the PA system. The announcer’s voice was loud—too loud for
comfort. He stood on a platform with two rather large objects flanking either side.
“We have a couple of big prizes to give away tonight before we announce the winners
of the silent auction. The first is a jet ski and vest donated by Hammond’s Marine.”
April strained to see through the crowd.
Everyone clapped. The flirtatious hostess from the front door pulled a name out of
a box and the master of ceremonies announced it.
Everyone looked around. April heard sporadic applause around the room. “Physical presence
is not required to win,” the man said. “We’ll make a simple call.”
A man from the back of the room called out. “Mr. Jordan is here. He stepped outside
for a moment. I’ll get him.”
“Okay, we’ll get back to Mr. Jordan later,” the master of ceremonies continued. “Now
for the Harley-Davidson Softail donated by Hogan Thorpe—I mean Hog Thorpe, owner of
Thorpe’s Custom Cycles. And a leather jacket donated by Scooter’s Outfitters.”
Jenna shot April a look and touched her arm.
The crowd parted slightly and April could see the large object beside the announcer.
It was a red monster motorcycle with shining chrome. Plates of Harley insignia were
fastened all over the glistening metal. She turned and also noticed how some of the
attendees sort of giggled and looked at one another. She might have been afraid of
the things, but she’d never mock them. Or anything else that involved the bikers.
She frowned.
She surveyed Bull and Hogan.
Hog
. Bull and Hog. They were nice guys and didn’t deserve to be looked down upon by anyone.
The hostess once again reached for a name. “April Church,” the announcer said in a
voice so loud that people in the parking lot had to have heard it.
April’s vision grew dark and narrowed to a single spot of light. She couldn’t have
heard what she knew she had just heard. She had won a Harley. Everyone knew it. Most
of the people in the room had at least heard of what happened with her family and
Rebel Angels. News of the accident and fire had been in the papers often enough. And
here she was. The center of attention again. With another motorcycle, no less.
Jenna covered her mouth. She turned to April and touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
she asked.
April looked to Bull, but she couldn’t say a word.
“Let’s get you a seat,” he said. “Watch her for a second,” he said to Hogan.
Her feet were glued to the floor. Frozen. Solid. Immovable.
Well, the Oak Room finally had the center decoration it had needed. April Church.
“Congratulations,” Hogan said, and hugged her like he’d known her since elementary
school.
She had just won a Harley.
Oh, no. She had just won a Harley.
The noise in the room grew deafening. April couldn’t tell if the sounds were clapping
or laughing or jeering. Something she couldn’t control was happening to her. A pain
shot through her head. She needed to get out of there—fast.
But before she could collect her thoughts, the hostess had come down from the platform,
grabbed April’s arm, and lead her to the front of the room. “They want to get some
pictures.”
April was speechless, dumbfounded. Where was Jenna? Where was Bull? Where was the
air that was supposed to be filling her lungs?
On the platform, the hostess pushed April’s left arm into the sleeve of the Harley
jacket, and then she shoved the other one in and pulled the coat over her champagne-colored,
very French lace dress.
April felt like a puppet as the woman led her to stand beside the bike. Flashes of
light shocked April’s eyes as the photographer took picture after picture. The bursts
were as bright as the ones that nearly blinded her the night of the accident. And
then more twinkles exploded behind her emerging headache.
The deafening roar of the crowd filled the room. April’s chest tightened. She couldn’t
breathe.
…
When Bull returned with a chair, April was gone. She was on the stage, frozen with
some fake auto-smile she’d probably learned as a child. He couldn’t stand watching
April’s paralyzed expression a minute longer. He’d seen enough of her fear at that
steakhouse that first night. He didn’t understand it, but fear was fear. Irrational
or not. With one long stride, he was on the platform, shielding her from the flashes
of the cameras, taking her arm and hauling her out of the building through the French
doors behind them. He knew how hard standing there must have been for her. He could
see it in the deer-in-headlights look that was still fixed upon her face.
Continuing to lead her around the building, he glanced down and saw that she was hyperventilating.
He stood in front of her.
“I…” she squeaked “Can’t. Breathe.”
“I know,” he said.
“I’m not upset,” she said, jerking as she inhaled raggedly.
Sure she wasn’t. And she wasn’t the most beautiful woman at the auction, either.
If he’d known how hard this was, he wouldn’t have invited her. No matter what, he
had wanted to see her. He had wanted to be near her. He definitely didn’t understand
her fear or whatever it was that was eating at her.
What was it? Why? It had to be something more than what he knew.
She was trembling.
He wrapped his arms around her and said, “Shhhh. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll
make sure it is. You’re going to be fine.”
Finally, he felt her take a breath that could fill a pair of lungs. That would help.
The trembling nearly stopped. He put his finger under her chin and lifted it toward
his face. Her brown eyes were laced with tears.
She was amazingly gorgeous. He brushed back the dark blond hair from her shoulder
and without thinking it through, he bent down and kissed her. Lightly this time, like
she was fragile.
Had he gone insane? Bull pulled away from her and said, “I’m so sorry. I don’t want
to upset you any more than I have already.”
She buried her head into his chest and sobbed.
He picked up his keys from the valet at the front of the haughty building.
“I’m taking you home,” he said. He grabbed April’s delicate hand and led her to his
SUV. Before she got in, he tugged at the jacket she was wearing until it was off,
and he threw it on the backseat. She didn’t need another reminder of her nightmarish
evening with him.
As he drove, he glanced at the vision in the seat beside him when he could. How did
things get so messed up? Why hadn’t he cared before about how his behavior affected
others? Of course, he’d never hurt anyone. Not on purpose.
But purposely or not, he’d hurt April. With his hair. With his clothes. With his attitude.
He gritted his teeth.
She wiped at her face as she stared out his window.
They arrived at her place without a word being exchanged the entire way.
He opened the door on her side of the vehicle and helped her out.
They stood in front of the door of the condo building. The light of the lantern on
the facade of the old building cast a gentle glow all about her. Even through all
she had endured tonight, she was still the most captivating woman he had ever seen.
The sight of her was almost hypnotic.