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This gorgeous man is not only my benefactor, but my freaking date.

I clench my knees as one word plays on repeat in my mind.

Sex.

This has to be about sex.

While I pray that isn’t what he’s about to offer, I can’t help picturing this beautiful man between my thighs, my fingers tugging at his raven hair. Nope, shutting that down. My lack of good sex is now taking creative liberties. Great. Better to clear the table immediately.

“Is this about sex? Like some weird kink thing or a power move?” I blurt out before I can think better. “Like, since you paid, you’re in control and now I have to do your sexual bidding or something?”

Satisfyingly, he chokes on his beer, spraying a little down his chest. His glance slips to my breasts at the mention of sex. Nice to see he’s not immune to the girls, just more discreet about it.

Mopping the front of his shirt, he looses a full-blown grin. “Well damn, forty-eight. You get right to the point, don’t you?”

I don’t apologize, holding his gaze.

Picking up on my lack of humor toward the situation, he continues. “This is not about sex.” For a second, I swear there’s a flash of disappointment in his eyes matching my own. “I paid for your bid for two reasons. The most important being that I overheard your self-chat back there?—”

“You mean you eavesdropped.”

“It’s not eavesdropping when someone is melting down loudly over bills they can’t pay in a quiet hotel hallway.

So I reiterate, I overheard your self-chat back there and, frankly, felt like shit about it.

I’ve been in tight places before and the idea of putting someone out, even for a charity I love, seems… shitty.”

“Why were you out there in the first place?” Now that I’ve started grilling him, the questions just keep rolling out like unstoppable answer-seeking word vomit.

“I was looking for you.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Aren’t the bachelors supposed to steer clear of the sex driven bidders until date night?”

“Technically, yes. But unlike our auctioneer, it was plenty clear from where I stood on stage that the last thing you were doing was bidding. And if my common sense couldn’t put together your lack of willing participation, then your expression certainty sold it when you won.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so disappointed to go on a date with me.

Took a chink out of my pride, if I’m being honest. To be clear, I’m not a guy who enjoys an unwilling participant.

” He adds, eyebrow quirking suggestively.

“That’s still not a good enough answer.” I shake my head, refusing the bait. “Why pay? Fifty thousand is ludicrous. If you were so hard up to rescue me from my own financial idiocy, why not pay the two grand to buy me out and let the other bidder claim her prize?”

Dalton’s eyebrows raise. “I’m a prize?”

“Not the point, Ward.” I roll my eyes.

“Well, that brings us to reason two. Did you see the woman you were bidding against?”

“I didn’t even see you, so no.”

His laugh is deep, a rumbling noise that makes me smile despite the humorless situation. “She’s the second reason.”

Well, this just got a little more interesting.

“Ex-girlfriend?” I guess, leaning in.

He shrugs. “You could say that. A woman I dated briefly, and have regretted that decision ever since. Ever make a relationship choice that will haunt you?”

“One of the reasons I was drinking more than I should have at dinner tonight,” I admit, finger tracing the rim of my glass.

He nods, chewing the lower corner of his lip. “Fifty thousand is a freaking deal to avoid a date with her. Trust me.”

I push back into the velour seatback, grinning. Relief washes over me for the first time since I put on my cousin’s dress tonight.

“What?” He glances down at himself, looking for more sprayed beer before trying to decipher my expression.

“You didn’t pay to help me out.” I let out a breath, the weight lifting.

“I did,” Dalton counters.

“No, you paid to avoid your ex and help yourself out.”

His head dips to the side in agreement. “Technically, yes, I did that too.”

“So I don’t owe you anything.”

“I never said you did.”

I blanch. Shit, he didn’t. In this entire conversation, Dalton never once said I owed him. I just assumed.

“But then why meet? Why pretend you didn’t know who I was out in front of the bar? You could have just paid, walked away, and never seen me again.”

“Ahhh, except for?—”

“For the date. You’re still obligated to show up for our date tomorrow, even if you paid.

There are businesses relying on the marketing from our date, and you have to supply photos for socials.

” My head thumps back on the cushion. How could I forget that?

I helped organize that part of the agreement, for Pete’s sake!

“Bingo, forty-eight.” He finishes his beer.

“Considering the circumstances, I figured it was best to feel you out. Talk about the ramifications for both of us if my paying got out publicly and discuss our options. Admittedly, I also wanted to check out who I was footing the bill for before committing to this whole charade. Hence the test at the door. Had to make sure you weren’t some stalker looking for a handout.

I would apologize, but I’ve learned to be more careful with who I let into my life these days. ”

I stiffen at the word handout. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Noted. Aside from who actually gets the money—which is the charity—my paying is more a request for you to stay silent about our arrangement than a charitable offer.”

“So this is blackmail.” That prickle of fear trickles back down my spine.

“This is a proposition—a mutually beneficial proposition. Another?” He gestures to my near-empty glass. I manage a curt nod. Dalton waves at the waitress, then points at our empty glasses, ordering another round. I knock back the rest of the martini.

“So, what are these mutually beneficial options, Mr. Ward?” I can play hardball, too.

“Dalton,” he corrects. “I paid off your bid. No penalty costing you rent, and you get to save face with Ramona.”

That draws me up short. “You know Ramona?”

“The badass PR goddess who gets shit done and whipped our asses into line for tonight? Yeah. Not a single bachelor here who doesn’t know and respect her.

And there’s not a lot of Ramonas out there in PR whose fathers are iconic basketball players turned sportscasters.

Plus, since she’s kind of a big deal with tonight’s events, I assumed she’s the same one you were talking to yourself about earlier.

” There’s a gleam of admiration in his eyes.

Ramona has that effect on people. It’s one of the reasons I bust my ass to learn in her wake.

“I get to avoid my ex, the Cancer Research Fund gets their cash, and you get a free date with me in return for keeping your mouth shut about where the funding came from. That’s the only way this works.

It’s a win-win for you. And if either of us talks, the press will shred us both and question the entire event’s legitimacy. Something neither of us wants.”

He's right. If word of this got out that a bachelor paid for his own date with a ringer, the head of PR put in the crowd, everyone’s reputation would be on the line.

Charities might even back out, and the entire event could fall apart.

The waitress appears with our drinks, lingering a little longer than necessary to let her fingers graze Dalton’s as she hands over his beer.

He smiles politely, like women not so subtly flirting with him happens all the time.

Maybe it does. We wait until she leaves before continuing.

“I’ll agree with one condition.”

“Is this about sex?” He throws my own words back at me. There’s a playfulness to his tone again, but something darker simmers in his eyes.

“Yes.” I let the word sink in, enjoying the moment his calm expression cracks with surprise. “The total lack of it, and all the things that could lead up to it.”

His brow furrows, uncomprehending.

“I save you from a horrible ex and you save me from crippling debt. We both keep our mouths shut, but no date. I refuse to take advantage of something I didn’t earn or pay for.” The painfully single, thoroughly un-sexed woman inside me is screaming that I’m an idiot. I shut her up.

Genuine shock skates over his handsome face. “I still owe photos. Who am I supposed to bring with me tomorrow?”

“I don’t know and don’t care. Your biggest super fan, your charity’s secretary, your mom.

” His flinch is so imperceptible, I may have imagined it.

“Either way, tonight, this,” I gesture between the two of us.

“Is the last contact we’ll have. We forget this night and each other the minute we walk out of this bar.

You have fun on your date, and I get to keep my job.

Do we have a deal?” This time I offer him my hand to shake on it.

“Deal.” His head tilts in opposition to a lopsided smile that’s all too charming.

Just before putting his hand in mine, he draws back, turning his wrist to check the watch fastened there.

“Damn. The banquet should be letting out about now. The elevators are about to be flooded with attendees. Seeing as how I’ve got an ex to avoid and you a boss, care to spend the next hour hiding in a dark booth, getting to know someone you're just going to forget? No need to hold back or impress anyone. Just two strangers enjoying each other’s company.

Think of it like a one-night stand, but without the sex. ”

“That’s equally appealing and disappointing,” I admit.

Dalton’s smile widens, his hand inclining back toward mine, which I grab before he can rescind. Tingles shoot up my arm when our skin touches. I grip tighter to snuff out the traitorous sensation.

“We have a deal, Dalton Ward.”