Money Shot (30 page)

Ambrielle Kirk pens tales of romance in various subgenres. Her favorites are contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and urban fantasy. As a child, she never really dreamed of being an author. It was a destined path that chose her. Now she writes with her readers in mind, but the characters, of course, dictate the outcome.

Visit her website for more diverse, edgy, romantic fiction at
http://ambriellekirk.com

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Chapter One

“Stop tugging! IF you pull it down any more, no one will be looking at my face!” She swatted at her best friend’s hands and gave her a pouty frown.

“Oh, come on, Miranda. They won’t be looking up there anyway.” Dawn yanked and fluffed until Miranda’s breasts spilled over the top of the gown.

From her vantage point, she had more cleavage than the Grand Canyon. Her mother would be mortified. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s for a good cause and who knows, maybe you’ll meet Mr. Right.”

“Oh, yeah. The man of my dreams is totally going to swoop in and buy me as his date.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “This isn’t the movies, Dawn.”

“No, but you’re a total knockout in that dress.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up.”

“No, I’m serious. Take a look.” Dawn stepped back and let Miranda see her reflection.

Wow
. Gone was the chubby, mousy engineer and hello was a bombshell. The black velvet hugged and smoothed her curves, highlighting her hourglass shape. And the plunging neckline made her cleavage sexy, not frumpy.

“Okay…maybe I look a little different.”

Dawn giggled. “Everyone is going to love you. Just wait until the bidding starts. I’ll bet more than one guy will want to take you home.”

“Hey! I’m not going home with anyone. You said it was just a date!”

Her best friend held up her hands. “It is. One date and he pays the winning bid in cash. But who knows? If you two hit it off…”

“You know my luck with men, Dawn. We’ll go out on one date, and he’ll never call again. That’s how it always goes.”

“That’s because you’ve never dated the right guy. All those geeks are boring. From what you’ve said, they don’t even know how to use their tongues.”

Miranda blushed and looked away, but she didn’t argue. Her last three dates had been fellow engineers—two in packaging like her and one in systems. Not a single one had lit the tiniest of sparks. “You have a point.”

“What was that last guy’s name? Milton? You said he smelled like cheese.”

“Moldy cheese.” Miranda shuddered. “And he kissed like a limp fish.”

“Ewww.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You just need to relax. Smile when the announcer calls your name. Flirt. If someone bids on you, make eye contact. Show them you’re interesting. Sexy.”

“But I’m neither.”

“Pfft. You are too.”

Miranda took a deep breath and blew it out her mouth. Dawn had a lot more confidence than she did. If the animal shelter weren’t dependent on the charity auction, she’d bail. Claim a migraine and rush back home.

Too bad she couldn’t let Dawn down. Not after she’d cobbled together her savings, applied for countless grants and finally got her dream shelter open. More and more strays arrived by the day and Dawn was over capacity. Without an extra infusion of cash to expand, she’d have to turn homeless animals away. And that broke her best friend’s heart.

She bit her lip and looked in the mirror. “What if no one bids on me?”

“Not possible. Your girls practically sell themselves. Hell, if I didn’t know you, I’d bid on you just to see if they’re real.”

She swatted Dawn on the arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s obvious they’re real, they balance out my ass.” Miranda gave her backside a shake and Dawn giggled.

“Just be yourself, okay? You’re cute and funny and men should be falling all over themselves for a chance with you.”

Miranda blushed and gave Dawn a quick hug. “Thanks. But this is a one-time deal, right? You’re not going to start holding these things every month or something, are you?”

Dawn laughed. “I don’t know. If this one’s a success, maybe I will.”

Miranda opened her mouth to protest, but Dawn waved her off.

“Don’t worry. You’re meeting the man of your dreams tonight, remember? You won’t be single anymore!”

“Of course. How could I forget?”

Dawn glanced at her watch and squealed. “It’s showtime! We need to go!” She nudged Miranda toward the door and pulled it open. “Knock ’em dead for me, okay?”

“Would you settle for knocking them over?”

“Ha, ha. I’ll be out in the crowd later if you need me.”

Miranda nodded and took a deep breath.
No backing out now
. She walked out of the dressing room and down the hall, trying to remember all the positives Dawn mentioned. Her friend might be overselling a bit, but she did look good. Damn good.

Maybe Dawn was right. She’d spent months dragging invites out of the most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes in New York. A far cry from Miranda’s usual slim pickings. Even if she brought a low donation, she’d have a chance to go out with someone new. Without that nasty cheese smell. She pushed the door open and stepped up onto the stage, glancing at the other dates up for auction.

Oh, God
. Slim and trim and model gorgeous. Every single one of them. Showcasing pencil waists and perky breasts and legs like thoroughbreds.
Why did I agree to this?

Miranda looked down at her too-big boobs and thick hips and her heart sank. No man would bid on her when they could have perfection. She forced a swallow and gave the other women a tight smile as she walked by. Finding her place on the stage, she turned toward the curtains and took a deep breath.

One night. She could survive the embarrassment for one night.

“I can’t believe you dragged me here.”

“Lighten up, James. It’ll be fun.”

With a glance up at the curtained stage, James stifled a sigh. Charity events were never fun. He’d much rather be skiing or hiking or stuck in a late night meeting. Anything but milling around in a tux, surrounded by people who flaunted their Park Avenue addresses and man-made smiles.

“And when are the good times supposed to start, exactly?”

“When the auction starts.” Winston took a sip of his bourbon and twirled his bidding paddle around in his hand. The man always loved a competition. Too bad this one didn’t come with a prize worth winning.

James gulped a mouthful of martini. “So I’m supposed to get excited about a bunch of plastic Barbies, is that it?”

“They can’t all be socialites. Ms. Mackenzie isn’t an heiress.”

“Is that the owner?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Then what is she and why are we here? You don’t slum with the regular folks very often.”

Winston rolled his eyes. “I do too. I get coffee downstairs at least once a week. There are regular people there.”

“We own the store. I don’t think that counts.”

“Details.” Winston took another drink and continued. “If you must know, we’re here because Margaret pestered me until I said yes.”

James stared at his business partner. “You let your secretary plan our social calendar?”

Winston shrugged. “She volunteers at the animal shelter on the weekends. Said it needed some help. Begged us to come.”

“That’s so unlike you.”

“We were free. And besides, you need a date. It’s been what, a month since Dominique?”

James shook his head. “So that’s what this is about? You’re trying to get me laid?”

“You have been testy lately. If you ask me, you should have kept her around until you found someone new.”

“Breaking up with Dominique was a blessing.”

“Oh, she wasn’t so bad. She brought us her father as a client.”

“That’s the only reason I didn’t dump her sooner. You know that. I swear she’s spent her entire inheritance on Botox and silicone. I don’t even think her ass is real.” James shuddered and closed his eyes.

He missed being ordinary. Before he’d gone to business school and met Winston, he’d been an average guy. Good looking, no debt, smart. He could go to a bar and pick up a sexy woman who still ate bacon and had hips he could squeeze. Hair he could run his fingers through. Tits he could worship.

But ever since they struck it big—becoming hedge fund billionaires before hitting forty—they’d attracted a different type of woman. Stick skinny, artificial, hollow. Not the kind he wanted pinned beneath him all night long. Or sharing his life.

He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Shouldn’t it have started by now?”

“Yeah, they must—”

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen!” The mic cracked and a petite blonde walked on stage. “I’m Dawn Mackenzie, the founder of Manhattan Paws, and I’d like to welcome you to our charity date auction tonight!”

A muted round of applause swept through the room and James tuned the woman out. Charity events were always the same—a bunch of wealthy people throwing their money around like bread crumbs for ducks.