Bidding on Brooks: The Winslow Brothers #1 (5 page)

“Two hundred and forty thousand,” said Felicity, shooting a dirty look to the back of the room, before fixing her blue eyes on Brooks and forcing a brittle smile.

“She’s like a dog with a bone,” whispered Jessica, covering the mic.

“That’s for sure,” said Brooks, catching Alex English’s amused look. He sat in the front row alternating between looking at Jessica with devotion and laughing at Brooks with glee. “And tell Alex if he wasn’t with you, he’d be up here, too.”

“Oh, he knows,” said Jessica, winking at her fiancé, who raised his eyebrows suggestively in return.

Brooks rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to the heat between Jessica and Alex, but all things equal, he’d just as soon pretend she was still his virginal little sister, thank you very much.

“Two hundred and forty thousand dollars for the new wing of ICA! The generosity in this room humbles me,” said Jessica into the microphone.

“Two-fifty!” yelled Skye, lifting her paddle again.

The crowd gasped.

“Lord, Brooks, a quarter million dollars to spend a week with you? Who’s back there?” whispered Jessica, straining her neck, then into the microphone, “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars! My goodness gracious! Can we ask the mystery bidder to please come forward?”

Brooks braced himself for the crowd’s response to his tomboy friend presenting herself in some skirt and T-shirt combination with dirty fingernails and a straggly braid. And likely wearing eau de epoxy. Oh well, he thought, grinning to himself. Skye was saving him from Felicity and ensuring him a decent week of sailing, and frankly, that was all that mattered.

All that mattered until the crowd parted.

When it did, his jaw dropped, like the hinge had just been busted. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen stepped between the tuxedoed shoulders of several male guests, striding confidently up the center aisle where eager bachelorettes checked her out with wide-eyed envy. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a soft bun, and her slim body sparkled with crystals on a dress that outlined the perfection of her figure, including the mouthwatering valley between her breasts that spilled precariously over the top of the elegant gown. From her ears dangled two twinkling earrings, and her face, tan and even with pink, pouty lips and sexy, wide eyes made the blood in his head sluice south to just below his waist.

He blinked. His mouth lolled open. He didn’t care. He couldn’t help it. Hell, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

She stopped about halfway up the aisle and gave Brooks a shy grin, then turned her deep blue eyes to Jessica. “Here I am.”

Jessica chuckled softly, “Well, hello! And you are?”

“Skye Sorenson.”

“Welcome, Skye.”

“Thanks,” she said, deftly twirling her paddle back and forth in her clean, manicured hands as every pair of eyes in the room—especially the male ones—stared at her.

Included among them? Brooks. And although he knew he probably looked like an ass for ogling her when they’d been friends for years, he simply couldn’t look away. For a decade, since Skye had turned twenty and quit college to work for her father, she’d been bumming around the marina in beat-up overalls and that old Orioles cap.
This
is what she’d been hiding? This fresh, wholesome, delicate beauty? She rivaled any woman in the room, any woman in the world, and the flash of heat he’d felt from peeking at her neck yesterday evening turned into a full-fledged fire as he drank in her loveliness.

“Wow,” he finally sighed, mirroring the sentiments of every other man in the room.

From where she stood, Skye beamed at him, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“Sorry I was late,” she mouthed, cringing adorably and shrugging her bare shoulders apologetically.

Brooks smiled back. He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t do anything but stare at her with a blank, dumbfounded grin.

“Well, mystery bidder!” said Jessica, composing herself. “You’ve bid two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the pleasure of my brother’s company. I hope he’s worth it.”

A ripple of soft laughter spread through the crowd of guests, many of whom, Brooks noted, were still staring at Skye with curiosity, lust, or envy.

“Going once! Going twice! Sold! Mr. Brooks Winslow sold to Miss Skye Sorenson!” Jessica banged her gavel and bowed her head in thanks. “And I thank you for your generosity.”

“You’re welcome,” muttered Brooks, noticing several men shifting their positions closer to Skye to congratulate her on her win. His fingers curled into a tight fist in response.

“We’ll take a quick break now,” said Jessica breathlessly, “and return in fifteen minutes to start the bidding on our next three bachelors!”

As the music started up, Jessica placed her hand on Brooks’ arm. “Who is she?”

“An old friend,” said Brooks.

“A…
friend
?”

“That’s right.”

“And I assume you put her up to this?”

“Does it matter?” he asked. “Your plan’s not going to work. Sorry.”

Jessica gave him an incredulous look and chuckled slyly. “From the way you’re looking at her? I’d say my plan’s working out beautifully, big brother.”

“She’s a friend, Jess. Nothing more.”

“Mm-hm,” murmured Jessica, giving him an annoying wink.

“She has a boyfriend,” he said emphatically, cutting his eyes back to Skye and thinking that she wasn’t
acting
much like a woman who had a boyfriend, grinning at all of the new admirers who surrounded her. “He’s a mutual friend, who would probably appreciate it if I rescued her.”

“‘Rescue her,’” she said, using air quotes. “Is that what you call it when you’re about to go pee on a woman’s leg?”

His brain worked to come up with an adequate rejoinder, but before he could say anything else, his sass-mouthed little sister turned around on her ridiculously-high high heels and sauntered off the stage.

One moment, Brooks was standing on the stage glowering at her, the next he was pushing through the crowd to stand beside her.

“Give me a second with my date, eh, gentlemen?” he asked sharply, offering sour looks to the handsome men who were surrounding her.

Skye turned to him, trying to conceal the fact that her breath actually caught at the up-close sight of him in a tux. She would have bet a million dollars that nothing could beat the sight of Brooks in shorts and a T-shirt, tan and windblown as he guided a boat out of the harbor. It smarted to know she would have lost that bet.

“Hey Skye,” he said, his eyes flicking quickly down her dress and then back up to her face. He licked his lips, locking his eyes with hers. “Didn’t know if you were coming.”

“Sorry I was late,” she said outloud this time, aware that her heart was thundering as she recognized the look on his face. Brooks was looking at her the way she’d looked at the Prim so long ago—like he saw something stunningly beautiful, something he wanted—and it was unsettling, but she discovered with a surprise that came from her relative inexperience, not at all unpleasant.

For most of her life, Skye had been the “friend.” With the exception of a high school boyfriend, a couple of college flings, and Pat, she hadn’t been pursued very much by members of the opposite sex for anything but friendship. The sort of attention she enjoyed tonight was foreign to her, but she couldn’t deny it was exciting.

He offered her his arm, and she looked at it for a moment before realizing he wanted her to take it.

“Do you dance?” he asked.

“Not well.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She placed her unusually clean hand on the arm of his tuxedo jacket and let him lead her to the dance floor. As he put his arm around her waist and laced his fingers through hers, her belly fluttered and she wondered about this new electricity between them, and even more, she wondered if he felt it, too.

Judging from his darkened eyes which still fixed on hers with a piercing gaze, she figured there was a good chance he did.

“So, when I said to buy a dress, I didn’t expect this. You look…breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks flushing and her belly fluttering again in a way she hadn’t felt in ages, the realization of which made her feel guilty since Pat was her boyfriend. The thing was, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt butterflies with Pat, which only served to make her feel worse.

“What?”

She looked up at Brooks. “Huh?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh,” she said, giving him a cautious smile. “I was just thinking…I talked to Pat last night.”

Brooks’ eyes cooled a little. “How’s Panama?”

“He’s having a great time.”

“The Cat holding up well?”

“Umm…yeah,” she said, though she had no idea how Pat’s catamaran was doing because she’d barely had a chance to talk to him. Suddenly, her guilt took flight and she didn’t want to talk about Pat anymore because she still felt hurt by their crappy conversation last night. “So, the Cutter. When’s it coming?”

“Should be at the marina by Tuesday. Will you check it out for me?”

She grinned. “A school of sharks couldn’t keep me away.”

“It’s supposed to be sail-worthy, but I’ll take her out for a test run on Wednesday. You’re welcome to come along if you like. We can stretch her legs a little in the bay before heading out to sea on Sunday.”

As tempting as his offer was, she had a lot of work to catch up on before their trip next weekend, plus she was a little confused by the feelings she was having for him tonight. A few days apart before their weeklong cruise would probably be a good idea. She’d deal with her feelings about the phone call with Pat and remind herself that Brooks was a friend and nothing more—Pat was her reality.

“Let me check my workload, huh?”

“Sure thing.” His eyes rested on her face, dropping to her lips for a moment before cutting to her eyes again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“I had no idea you could look like this. Why don’t you ever, you know, dress up?”

“You mean…so people would
see me as a girl
?”

Brooks flinched. “God, I’m a jackass. Did I actually say that to you?”

“Uh…yeah. It would be hard to forget.”

“Let me make up for it,” he said, raking his eyes slowly down her face, lingering on her lips, tracing the line of her throat to her breasts which barely grazed the front of his shirt, but puckered into tight points from the heat of his perusal. Finally he snapped his dark eyes back to her face, his breathing slightly more shallow and his voice a little gravelly when he said, “I promise, from this day on, to
always
see you as a girl.”

Her cheeks flushed and her heart did crazy flips as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She wanted to look away from him, but found she couldn’t, almost like she was seeing him for the first time. Though she’d never stopped noticing how gorgeous Brooks was, something about the way he looked at her now made him feel new to her, and it was both exciting and confusing.

“Mr. Winslow and Miss Sorenson, over here!”

They looked simultaneously toward the voice, and a bright flash suddenly blinded Skye, making her stumble as Brooks tightened his arm around her to keep her from falling.

“Terrific shot. One more?”

“Hey,” said Brooks dropping her hand and shielding her eyes as they stopped dancing. “That’s enough.”

The photographer grinned at her in a way that bordered on smarmy and made Skye instantly uncomfortable.

“That was one dramatic auction.”

“I guess it was,” said Brooks in an unfriendly voice. “You are?”

“Guy Hunter. From
Celeb!
?” He grinned, holding out his hand, which Brooks shook quickly. “I’ll be meeting you two at Virginia Beach, Hatteras, Myrtle Beach, and Charleston. I’m here to document
the love
.”

“The love?” murmured Skye, grateful that Brooks had pulled her possessively against his side.

“You two lovebirds on an ocean voyage. So…” said Guy, leaning closer to Skye, “you must have pretty deep pockets, huh, Miss Sorenson? Or can I call you Skye?”

Ignoring Guy, Brooks squeezed her hip gently, speaking close to her ear. “Want to get some air?”

“Sure,” she answered breathlessly, her body hyper aware of Brooks beside her, and her brain wrapping around the fact that her life was going to be on display for the next two weeks until the end of the cruise. She’d agreed to it, of course, but it had felt nebulous and unreal at the time she’d said yes. Suddenly, it felt very real—perhaps, for a woman who’d lived a quiet life among her beloved boats—a little
too
real.

Giving Guy a sharp look, Brooks said, “We agreed to a photo spread, not having our privacy invaded. Which means questions about Miss Sorenson’s bank account are completely off-limits.”

“Touchy.” Guy’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment, he managed a smirk. “I hear you loud and clear, skipper. Well, I guess I’ll run along now and look forward to seeing you two in Virginia Beach a week from Monday, huh? Happy sailing, lovebirds.”

***

Reaching for Skye’s hand, Brooks pulled her across the room to a set of French doors that led outside to a brick patio. Closing the door behind them, he dropped her hand as soon as they were outside and raked his hands through his hair.

“Damn it, what have I gotten you into?”

“Nothing I didn’t agree to,” she answered softly.

“I get the feeling he wants more than a few pictures.”

She shrugged. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

Brooks cut his eyes to her, looking up sharply.
He did.
His family would be mortified to learn that he used an escort service, and suddenly—looking into Skye’s wide, innocent eyes, he felt an unexpected bolt of shame, which made him scowl. He made a quick decision and mental note not to enjoy any more dates from Elite until long after the article was published in
Celeb!
. In fact, he thought, it was probably best to go ahead and close his account as soon as possible.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m accustomed to my photo being taken, but I’m sorry you’ll have to deal with that sort of thing over the next couple of weeks. Hopefully he’ll respect the agreement and just show up at the appointed stops. If you see him sniffing around the marina this week, call me.”

“Will do,” she said lightly.

He watched as she crossed her arms over her chest and walked around the patio. Finally stopping to smell a bright yellow rose, her eyes closed and a small smile tilted up her lips. Brooks recognized something strong and new in his gut and it felt warm and good, but it also felt tinged with a low-grade panic. How the hell had he missed this? How had he missed that Skye Sorenson was one of the sexiest, loveliest women he’d ever seen? And now that he knew it, how the hell was he going to keep his hands off of her while they shared a small boat for a week? Pat or no Pat, petite blondes with lush breasts were his weakness. Damn it, the whole reason he’d asked Skye to join him in the first place, was to avoid any chance of a romantic entanglement. And now, every time he looked at her in those stupid overalls, he’d know what was underneath. It made him nervous. It made him second-guess the entire plan.

“Skye,” he said softly, hoping she didn’t hear the note of self-preservation in his voice. “After meeting Guy…if you wanted to back out, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

She turned to him, resting her palms on the brick wall behind her, her face luminous in the moonlight, her breasts heaving softly from her breathing. “No way. I wouldn’t do that to you. I made a promise. Plus…the Cutter.”

“The Cutter,” he said, taking a few steps toward her and grinning. “Was there ever a girl who loved sailboats as much as you?”

“Nope.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Some people would call me obsessed.”

Brooks shrugged dismissively. “Then they don’t understand. They don’t love sailing like we do.”

“Sometimes I feel like the wind and the water are in my blood.” Her eyes sparkled at him in the moonlight as her glossy lips turned up wistfully. “The thrill when the prow cuts through the waves, the way a sudden gust fills the sails and you hike over the side with a line in your fist and the spray in your face. That’s when I feel the most alive, the most complete.”

“Yes,” he said, hypnotized by the beauty of her face and the poetry of her words. “Me too.”

“I know. We have that in common,” she said. A gentle smile reached out and squeezed his heart as he gazed at her. “When I was ten, your parents gave you the Primrose.”

“I remember. I’m surprised you do.”

“She was the prettiest boat I’d ever seen. Before you came to claim her, I’d sit on the dock and stare at her. Just stare.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “I got very possessive of her, I guess.”

“You must have hated it when I finally took her out.”

“I was worried,” she confessed. “If you’d been reckless or foolish with that boat…” She waggled her finger censoriously, then paused, grinning at him. “That first day? Your birthday? I watched you walk down to the dock and board her. The way you checked her lines and cleats, and you were ginger with the rudder. I watched you cast off, luffing the sails until she was free of the larger boats, and then I watched you tighten the jib to get her moving. I stood on the dock and watched until I couldn’t see you anymore, but by then I was just enjoying the sight because you looked so right together. I knew she was in good hands.”

“In good hands,” he murmured, searching her eyes, strangely touched by her story.

“That’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That the wind and the water were in your blood, too.”

His breathing had become noticeably erratic as she spoke and his heart thundered in his ears as he flicked his gaze to her full, glossy lips before catching her eyes again. They widened just a little before dropping to his lips and staring, lingering, resting. Her breasts rose and fell more quickly now, the tips brushing the crisp whiteness of his shirt with every quick breath, and when she looked back up at him, her eyes were dark and searching. Whether she’d meant to or not, her body had just offered him an invitation that Brooks was helpless to refuse.

“Skye,” he whispered, closing the distance between them and dropping his lips to hers.

***

It surprised her at first—the pliant warmth of his lips suddenly pressed against hers—and she gasped softly as her eyes fluttered closed. His palm cupped her jaw gently as his other arm encircled her waist, pulling her up against the firm wall of his chest. And his lips…God, his lips moved slowly over hers, pursing to catch her lower lip over and over before he tilted his head to seal his mouth over hers.

Skye moaned, leaning into him, two decades’ worth of simmering lust giving her permission to respond as she smoothed her fingers over the crisp white of his tuxedo shirt, her fingernails digging into his chest as she felt the first touch of his tongue against hers. His fingers tangled in her hair, his thumb gently swiping the soft skin of her cheek as he groaned into her mouth, backing her up against the brick wall behind her to press his body flush against hers. Feeling the rock hard outline of his erection against her thigh made her arch against him, and as her tongue slid down the length of his, she shivered with pleasure.