Chapter 27

Nick impatiently glanced at his watch for the fifth time as he paced Ginger’s foyer. The gala had already started. He remembered a time when he used to appreciate her efforts to gain his attention, but not tonight. Not now.

And not ever, as long as Marabelle remained in the picture. And he wanted to make damn sure she remained in the picture. He didn’t know if Marabelle would even show up tonight. She’d run off right after the match, before he’d had a chance to speak with her. But he hoped like hell she’d be there. He needed to apologize and set things right.

He needed her.

If he had to crawl on his hands and knees and beg, he would. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her. He just had to convince her of that.

Nick tugged on his collar. Showing up tonight with Ginger on his arm was not one of his more brilliant moves. He’d been feeling sorry for himself when he asked her. What a moron.

What the…? Where had she bought that gown? Nick stopped fidgeting as Ginger descended the stairs, wearing a long, strapless, slinky dress in some sort of leopard print. The slit up the side looked like it never ended, and the fuck-me stilettos were fuchsia. He tried not to stare. He had no clue what held up her huge breasts. The dress had no back. He wished like hell she’d put something else on…like a trench coat or an army blanket…but they were already late, and he didn’t want to wait a second longer. This sucked. Marabelle was probably wearing that hideous black dress from her mother, along with all her insecurities. She didn’t need to see Ginger in this Frederick’s of Hollywood getup, hanging all over him like a high-priced hooker.

His head throbbed. He couldn’t afford any more social media gossip, speculation, or pictures with a Playboy bunny wannabe, and he didn’t want Marabelle believing he’d replaced her…already…with Ginger. He deserved whatever backlash came his way for showing up with Ginger so soon after his breakup. His stomach roiled, and he thought he might be sick.

At the gala, the coordinators accosted Nick the minute he walked through the doors. He shook hands and examined the ballroom at the same time. He didn’t see Marabelle anywhere. He spied most of his players dancing and entertaining the ladies.

Beau Quinton hadn’t lost any time hitting on some hot chick in a very short purple dress. Figured. He bet that before the night was over, Beau would have that dress over her head.

Nick kept checking the perimeter of the party as he made the obligatory rounds to see if Marabelle sat alone or hugged a wall somewhere. Damn. Where could she be? He knew better than to call. She wouldn’t pick up her phone. Maybe he could sneak away and see if she was holed up at home.

He handed Ginger a vodka tonic from the bar, giving her a wide berth as he continued to scrutinize the rest of the room and avoid as many camera phones as he could.

Over the rim of her glass, Ginger gasped. “Well, well, well… Q sure doesn’t waste any time. Looks like he’s with Miss Innocent Schoolteacher Gone Wild.”

Schoolteacher? His ears perked up.

Ginger indicated with a tilt of her head. “Over there.”

Nick had been watching the entrance, hoping to catch Marabelle arriving. He pivoted to face the dance floor. What was Ginger talking about? He picked Beau out easily, still dancing with the babe in the short dress. “Who are you—” He stopped midsentence, unable to keep his eyes from bugging out.

The babe twirling around in Beau’s arms in a nothing dress and a whole lot of skin was Marabelle!

He wheezed as though he’d been bodychecked in the gut. Tinker Bell had dared to wear that in public? The part of him that craved her every minute of every day appreciated the hell out of it. She looked amazing. But the possessive, jealous part of him wanted to kill anyone looking at her the way he was.

Especially Beau Quinton.

His scowl deepened as Beau twirled her, exposing her great legs. She appeared to be having the time of her life.

That does it. He didn’t care if Twitter crashed from too many tweets or Marty Hackman fired him for his public display. Marabelle was his! Nick made a lunge for the dance floor, but before he could take two steps, Carol Evans and her husband blocked his path, and Ginger had an iron grip on his arm.

“Coach Frasier, we can’t thank you enough for all the support you’ve given the school and for lending your name as our sponsor. So far, it’s been a huge success, and I’m sure tonight will not disappoint.” Carol beamed at him.

“Uh, you’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He made another attempt to leave.

“We’re going to start the live auction in just a bit,” Carol said, halting him again. “As soon as everyone is seated for dinner. We can’t wait much longer. The natives are getting restless,” she trilled.

He barely listened. His gaze was glued on Marabelle as she danced with John Prichard. Better. John was safe. Maybe. The way she’d dressed tonight, he wouldn’t trust his own father.

“Everyone’s hoping you’ll change your mind and join the auction.” Nick dragged his attention back to Carol’s babbling, when suddenly the idea of the auction sounded like a solution to his problem. His mind did some fast calculating. It was a long shot, but he had to take the risk.

He nodded. “Certainly. Anything for this worthy cause.”

“That’s marvelous! And Ginger won’t mind if we borrow her escort, will you? It’s so nice seeing you two back together again.” Carol leaned into him and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Ginger explained about the fake engagement with…you know.” Carol waggled her drawn-on eyebrows. “We truly appreciated the sacrifice you made for the cause.” Nick curled his hands into fists, but Carol didn’t notice.

“Ginger, you were absolutely correct…she did get fired as you predicted. Gracious. Who knew what she was really up to?”

Ginger gave Nick a nervous glance and said through a fake smile, “We’d better take our seats. Looks like they’re going to start the auction.” She looped her arm through his, trying to propel him forward.

“Follow us. We’re both seated at table five,” Carol said as the emcee took the microphone.

Nick leaned down and growled in Ginger’s ear, “How did you know Marabelle was going to be fired?”

Ginger gave him a coy look, as if they were having an intimate conversation. “I didn’t know. I only mentioned it was possible with how volatile she is. Oh, Nicky, stop scowling. You’re the main sponsor; you’re supposed to be having fun.”

He managed to smooth the scowl from his face, but these meddling bitches were up to something, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

Marabelle watched Nick and Ginger cross the ballroom to their table near the stage, heads drawn together, obviously enjoying a cozy chat. She had known the minute Nick had entered the ballroom. The air had become electrified, and the little hairs on the back of her neck had stood straight up for a second time that day.

Ginger clung to him in a drop-dead dress that had every head in the room swiveling for a better look. Why Ginger? Why did he have to go back to her? He could have any woman in this town, and he chose Ginger. How could she compete with that?

Marabelle wanted Nick with every fiber of her being, but only if she could have him all to herself. Totally, completely, forever. Watching him with Ginger made her feel a little ill and a lot inadequate. As she worried over her next move, her table started to fill in. Elizabeth Prichard sat to her right and Beau to her left.

“Why the sad face, Mary-bell?” Beau asked, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

“Take a wild guess.” Her gaze shot to Nick and Ginger across the ballroom. “Oh, Beau, why did he have to pick her? I think I could stand almost anyone better than that wretched, whiny, lousy tennis player!”

“Don’t pay them any mind,” Elizabeth Prichard piped in. “Nick is not interested in that conniving bitch, I can assure you.” Marabelle sat up, giving Elizabeth her full attention. “He’s hurt. You bruised his ego. He’s never had a woman break up with him before. Only you hold that distinction.” Elizabeth patted her hand. “His ego needed to be taken down a notch or two. He’ll come to his senses soon. I’ve already threatened him if he doesn’t,” she added smugly.

“What did you say?”

“You don’t want to know,” John said on the other side of Elizabeth. “But Nick does not want to be singing soprano.”

Marabelle sat stupefied, not knowing what to do with that interesting bit of information. Then, to her horror, Nick’s sister, Natalie, and her husband, Dan, came rushing to the table.

“Did we miss anything?” Natalie said, out of breath, as Dan held her chair. “The babysitter was late, or we would’ve been here earlier.”

Marabelle’s face blanched. What was Nick’s sister doing here? She hadn’t seen her since that god-awful morning in his kitchen. She noticed how elegant Natalie looked in an off-white sheath gown. Suddenly, Marabelle’s “party-girl” dress didn’t feel so appropriate anymore.

Natalie flashed a warm smile. “Marabelle, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Was she speaking to her? Marabelle glanced around the table to see if maybe another Marabelle was present.

“I enjoyed watching you play tennis today. I’m thinking about getting Brandon started. Would you have time for some private lessons?”

Nothing but time, now that I’m jobless.

“Sure. Be happy to.”

Natalie’s smile brightened, as if she and Marabelle were the best of friends. “Great. We’ll talk later.”

Marabelle gave the table another quick glance, surprised by all the friends surrounding her. Ty, Ricky, Rocker, the Prichards, and even Natalie all seemed to be on her side.

Her team.

How could she let her team down? Marabelle never played to lose. Not now. Not tonight.

The emcee explained the rules of the live auction, cracking a few jokes about how it was only an innocent outing and not an invitation for sex. Right. Then he began calling the bachelors up one by one. Rocker and Ty brought in twenty-five hundred each as they hammed it up on stage to keep the ladies bidding. Their packages consisted of first-class accommodations for an entire day spent in the North Carolina Mountains.

Ricky DiMarco turned up the heat as he wowed the women with his dangerous looks and sexy moves. He promised some lucky gal tickets and backstage passes to a Keith Urban concert, including champagne and limo ride.

Marabelle laughed, enjoying the antics as everyone went wild. Ricky’s bidding got very interesting. She noticed a young, pretty blond bidding. In the end, the young blond won to the tune of thirty-three hundred dollars. Ricky jumped down from the stage and swung the pretty, squealing girl around in his arms. Everyone cheered.

When Ricky reached the table, he said, “Hey, Marabelle, looks like I’ll be going out with my debutante after all.”

“What? You mean that’s the one you’ve been talking about?”

Ricky winked and nodded.

“Lordy,” she breathed as she sat back. She sure hoped the girl’s father didn’t own a shotgun.

Several other celebrities took the stage, as well as a local sportscaster, a young attorney, and a heart surgeon. Then finally Beau’s name was called.

Beau taunted the guys at his table. “Watch, listen, and learn, boys.” He surprised Marabelle by hauling her up for a long, slow kiss. “That’s for luck,” he said at her dazed expression.

Beau strutted his stuff as he made his way to the stage. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. Marabelle looked around the table, but no one seemed to notice. Everyone was laughing and cheering for Beau. Elizabeth tossed out the first bid, only to be outbid by Natalie, then both of them were knocked out of the competition as the real bidders took over.

“What if you had won him?” Marabelle asked Elizabeth, shocked at her nerve.

“Oh, honey, it would’ve served him right. He’s too cocky for his own good,” Elizabeth scoffed. Marabelle was amazed at the harmless ribbing and overall camaraderie everyone seemed to share. She glanced from Elizabeth to John to Natalie, when she happened to look over at Nick’s table.

Her breath lodged in her throat as time stood still.

Nick was watching her with an intensity she’d never seen before. Her heart banged clear through her chest. Her dress left little to the imagination, and she was sure he noticed from across the room. Beau continued to work the crowd, and the women went crazy. The room could’ve been on fire for all she noticed, because she was so drawn to Nick’s mesmerizing gaze. His expression went from intense to calm as the corner of his mouth quirked up, flashing his lopsided grin. He wasn’t laughing at her or even mocking her. He looked at her with—Marabelle blinked as a waiter reached in front of her to refill her wineglass. When he removed his arm, Nick was no longer watching her, but the stage where Beau was racking up the bids.

Anticipation tingled her skin. She knew she hadn’t imagined it. Nick hadn’t been smirking or looking at her with loathing or even hurt in his eyes. For a brief moment, she could’ve sworn she saw kindness, forgiveness, and…even love.

Especially love. If only for a split second. She felt it from across the room. Her pulse quickened, and her palms started to itch.

I need to get to him…now.

“Are you okay?” Elizabeth Prichard asked, touching her arm.

“Uh, yeah.” She shook her head to clear it, reaching for her water glass.

Elizabeth laughed. “You looked like you were in a trance. Can you believe Beau?”

“What?” Marabelle tuned in to the excitement on the floor. Beau had sold for forty-four hundred dollars to some Kim Kardashian look-alike dripping in diamonds, and they were taking a day cruise off the North Carolina coast.

“Sheesh. These women have more money than sense,” Elizabeth remarked.

Beau sauntered back to the table and high-fived all the guys. “Forty-four hundred, boys. You are looking at the mack daddy!” he bragged.

Marabelle’s skin felt prickly, and her heart was doing that weird erratic thumping. She couldn’t let any more time go by. She murmured some excuse and started to slide her chair back, when she heard a collective gasp around the entire ballroom.

“Damn. He’s gonna do it. I didn’t think he would,” Elizabeth said.

What? Then Marabelle knew as the emcee began his big announcement.

Nick took the stage.

Marabelle gasped. Oh, Nick. Don’t do this. It’s not important. Who cares about the school?

“Ladies, this is a wonderful surprise. Nick Frasier, head coach of the Carolina Cherokees, is offering some very lucky lady a weekend in Bermuda at a private villa. All expenses paid…”

Marabelle didn’t hear any more due to the loud rushing in her ears. Bermuda? Nick was taking someone to Bermuda? But he knew she wanted to go there… She shivered, lifting her gaze and staring into Nick’s steely blue eyes.

His smile seemed to be saying, Bid on me!

“Wake up! You need to bid on Nick,” Elizabeth urged, shaking her arm.

“Come on, Mary-bell. This is your chance,” Beau said, dropping into his seat next to her.

Panic threatened to paralyze her. “But I’m not sure if—”

“That’s thirty-five hundred from Mrs. Hazel Cartwright. Do I hear thirty-six?”

Her head whipped around. Mrs. Cartwright! Oh no! Nick needed saving—now.

Bids started to fly fast and furious.

“Mary-bell, you need to bid,” Beau insisted.

“I know Nick wants you. Please bid on him,” Natalie pleaded, leaning across the table.

Marabelle did some fast calculating—with the money from her dad and the thousand-dollar check sitting in her purse, she could maybe go up to five.

“Do I hear thirty-nine hundred?”

“Yes!” She raised her hand.

“Thirty-nine to the pretty little lady at table ten. What’s your name, honey?”

“Marabelle!” The entire table called out.

Nick laughed, looking ecstatic.

“Do I hear—”

“Four thousand.”

“That’s four thousand, from Ginger Jones at table five. How about…”

“Forty-two!” Marabelle shouted and shot her meanest glare at Ginger.

Someone else bid forty-four.

“Come on, Mary-bell, keep bidding.” Beau nudged her with his elbow.

“I’ve only got five thousand,” she whispered furiously when she heard Ginger bid forty-five. “Dammit. I hate that bitch.”

Beau rotated her shoulders to gain her full attention. “Listen to me. Keep bidding. Go as high as you have to,” he said, ferocity lacing his voice.

“I can’t.”

His fingers dug into her flesh. “Do it for the guys, Mary-bell. We’re backing you.”

Marabelle’s mouth fell open at what he had implied. “What? I can’t take money from you and the guys. I’ll never be able to pay it back.”

“Come on, Marabelle!”

“Keep bidding!”

“You’ve got this.”

Beau gave her shoulders a shake. “Look at me. You get Coach, and we get peace of mind instead of training camp from the bowels of hell. Do it for the team!”

Ginger had just finished bidding five thousand. Beau turned her toward the emcee.

“I’ve got five thousand on the table, who wants to bid fifty-one hundred? Anybody? Remember, this is an all-expenses-paid trip to Bermuda with none other than Coach Nick Frasier.”

Pressure from the table was tangible. She stole a glance at Nick, and his gaze burned a hole through her as fiercely as before.

“Fifty-five hundred!” someone said before Marabelle realized it had come from her mouth. Her table went wild, celebrating. She gave a shaky smile, praying it was over at the same time.

“Fifty-five hundred going once, going twice—”

“Six thousand,” Ginger cried out clear and strong.

Marabelle gasped, gripping the edge of the table. Beau slid a cocktail napkin in front of her and nodded.

“Do it.”

She almost choked at the amount she saw written on the napkin. “Are you sure? I can’t…” she whispered.

“Now!”

“Going twice—”

“Ten thousand!” she yelled out as her hand clutched her throat.

The entire ballroom erupted in cheers, hooting, and hollering. She could barely hear over the noise. She looked up in time to see Nick fist-pump the air as the master of ceremonies said, “Sold! For ten thousand dollars to the lovely Miss Marabelle!”