Page 98 of Decidedly Off Limits

With a sigh (and a quick check for a random shooting star), I returned to the ballroom.

In time.

To see.

Trent walking onstage.

In a tux.

They say when you’re in a life-and-death situation, your life flashes in front you. I couldn’t say if that was true since I wasn’t dying, but my mind was definitely revisiting my past. Except all of the flashbacks were Trent oriented. The first time he helped me with my math homework, and I thought he was the smartest boy alive. Even smarter than my brother. The first time he helped me with the flat tire on my bike. And the second and third time. The first time he was there for me when I fell off my bike and broke my leg. The first time we went to see a movie together, along with Liam and Erin.

The first time I fell in love with him.

What they fail to mention when it comes to these life-flashing-in-front-of-you situations is that walking during them is never recommended.

Especially when a waiter is standing in your way.

Drinks went flying. Glass shattered. Everyone looked at us.

With heat flooding my face, I bent down to help him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not a problem,” he said, picking up the broken glass and placing it on his tray. “And don’t worry, I’ve got this. You should go back to your seat. They’re starting the bidding soon.”

At this point I would’ve rather climbed into a hole and hid for the rest of the evening. But since that wasn’t an option, I stood up and my gaze automatically went to the stage.

Big mistake.

At the sight of Trent, the heat in my face decided it would be better served rushing to between my legs.

Somewhere in the back of my head a desperate voice urged me to keep walking…to my seat. But I couldn’t. Trent was watching me and both my heart and my legs had stopped functioning.

Just when I was beginning to think they’d have to rush in a crash cart to restart it, my heart got over the initial shock of seeing him and performed a happy dance.

My body joined the party. Both ignored the memo that my brain was attempting to send them—the memo pointing out that I needed to move on, both literally and figuratively.

“Ladies and gentlemen…well, especially the ladies. Are you ready for the auction to begin?” Jodi said into the microphone, and the spell Trent had on me was instantly broken.

As I walked over to where Owen and his colleagues sat, the applause at her announcement was deafening. But no more so than from the table next to us, where the woman who planned to outbid everyone when it came to Trent sat.

I took my seat, relieved no one was paying attention to me anymore.

“Are you okay?” Owen asked. I nodded, unable to pull my gaze away from the stage, where twelve men stood in a line, facing the audience.

Did you see who was third in line? That’s right. The Viking. Too bad the woman who was after Trent didn’t want to jump his bones instead.

I would’ve been fully on board with that.

I was vaguely aware of Owen talking to me, but don’t quiz me on what he said. All I could do was stare at Trent—and try not to imagine my hungry mouth against his, my naked body against his, my tongue tasting everything he had to offer.

Yes, I was seriously screwed.

But it wasn’t like I could bid on him. Even if I hadn’t been pretending to be Owen’s fiancée, I didn’t have enough money in my bank account to outbid Miss Eager-to-Get-into-Trent’s-Pants, who was currently drooling on the table in front of her.

Plus, there was the part about how Trent had made it clear that he didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about him.

“Kelsey? Are you okay?” Alice, the grey-haired match maker, asked while Jodi talked about the charity and the event, and what the money would be used for.

I nodded slowly, my eyes still on Trent.