The Auction a Romance by Anna Erishkigal Read online

  I suspected the real reason Adam had taken Pippa into work was allow her to do a bit of Christmas shopping in Toowoomba, so I dragged my project basket out of the bedroom and finished piecing together the granny squares Adam's mother had left unfinished. There was only enough for two-thirds of an afghan, so over the last few weeks I'd been digging through her leftover yarn and approximating the pattern as closely as I could. My gauge and skill was nowhere near Katherine Bristow's, but I alternated the squares so that every third patch was one of mine. There. Now Pippa would sleep under a blanket which had been crafted by both my and her grandmother's hand. I dug through the wrapping paper and enclosed it in bright green paper filled with reindeer.

  Next was Adam's present. My skill with a crochet hook was grossly inadequate to fashion anything which depended upon gauge, so I finished up a brown wool scarf I'd found incomplete in the closet even though Christmas in Oz came at the summer solstice. It was a modest gift, to finish the items his mother had started, but with my finances up in the air, I'd opted to keep the gifts sentimental.

  Next was the matter of what to eat. Adam wanted to celebrate Christmas after Pippa got back, but that didn't mean we couldn't enjoy a nice little feast before she disappeared into that other world tomorrow, the one where she was a purple oil princess. I wandered down to the river to scrounge up some blueberries. A love-struck bower-bird had set up its elaborate nest amongst the bushes and surrounded it with dozens of the succulent blue orbs to woo a female into its bower. I watched him dance, a beautiful, dark male that performed an elaborate wing-flip to hypnotize the nondescript, brown female. I returned to the house and tossed together a blueberry cobbler, set the vegetables to wash, and stirred up a potato salad made with olive oil instead of mayonnaise.

  Thunderlane yipped and ran towards the door. As soon as Adam parked the car, Pippa burst out carrying a brightly colored plastic bag and came bounding towards me, her white-blond pigtails bouncing every bit as ecstatically as Thunderlane's wagging tail.

  "I know something you don't know!"

  I gave her a grin.

  "And I know something you don't know, too."

  "My something is bigger?"

  "Wanna bet?"

  "Yup!"

  "So what is it, then?"

  Pippa opened her mouth to spill the beans, and then shoved her finger in my face.

  "Nice try, Rosie. It would spoil the surprise!"

  "Okay, then," I said. "Go in and wash up. Supper is almost ready."

  Adam came in, juggling far more packages than was sensible. I held the door for him, giving him a raised eyebrow when I saw two of the bags bore the white and black logo of Spurling formalwear.

  "I, uhm…" Adam turned pink beneath his suntan. "Pippa, uhm, I've got to let her fish something out first."

  He looked strangely awkward as he carried the packages into his bedroom, and through the door, I could hear the rattle of paper, scotch tape and giggles as he and Pippa wrapped their goodies. I threw the chicken breasts onto the barbie, and then set the table, lay out the salads, and broke out the better napkins. The scent of roasting chicken filled the air.

  Pippa came out wearing a conspiratorial grin.

  "I know something you don't know!"

  "You already said that, nipper."

  "But you'll never guess in a million years."

  "I don't guess well on an empty stomach," I said. "Wash your hands, and then why don't you mix up a batch of lemonade?"

  Pippa pulled down a plastic pitcher and carefully measured out two scoops of the fake yellow chemical powder that called itself lemonade. I went outdoors and piled the rosemary-infused chicken breasts onto a serving tray. As I did, I found myself humming an old gypsy folk song I hadn't sung in many years.

  "Ah lay-le ah lay-le…"

  We ate supper outside on the picnic table over Pippa's suppressed giggles and the covert looks she shot her father that, for some reason, made him anxious. As soon as I rose to clear the dishes, Adam disappeared into his bedroom, and then popped back in a moment later. My black eyes met his blue-green ones. He looked, if anything, extremely bashful.

  "Ah, Rosie, um. Can I, uh, speak to you a moment?"

  Pippa giggled.

  I tossed my wet dish towel onto the counter. "It sounds like you two are up to no good."

  Adam tilted his head towards the living room. What? No bottle of White Rabbit to hide behind this afternoon? I followed him to the sofa where the two white-and-black bags were carefully laid out on the coffee table. Adam settled into his favorite orange king chair, but he wore the look of a skittish colt.

  Pippa stuck her head out of the kitchen.

  "You, out!" Adam ordered.

  Pippa giggled and shot me an ecstatic grin. She gestured to the dog. "C'mon, Thunderlane. You'll get yelled at if you get hair all over Rosie's present."

  Okay. So? Adam was giving me my Christmas present early? I unconsciously caressed the black aboriginal bracelet. Two gifts in two days?

  "What's this?" I pointed to the boxes.

  "Open it."

  I touched one of the boxes. Adam handed me the larger one.

  "I think it will make more sense if you open this one first."

  I popped up off the sofa towards my bedroom to retrieve Adam's and Pippa's gifts.

  "Maybe I should get your present?"

  "No!" Adam said. "Sit down. This isn't for Christmas." His face turned pinker. "Well, it is kinda for Christmas. But really, uh, the present isn't for you. It's for me. Um … no. That didn't come out right. It is for you, but I, uh, sheesh! It's been a long time. I'm, uh, I'm kind of hitting you up for a favor?"

  He reminded me of Thunderlane when he wanted to jump up onto the couch to be patted, only he was afraid you'd yell at him and tap him on the nose. In fact, the last time I'd seen Adam this bashful; Julie Peterson had been giving him a bear hug.

  "Uh, okay?" I slid the box out of the bag and touched the white silk ribbon. I untied the bow and carefully lifted the lid. Inside, a double fold of white tissue paper with the black Spurling logo obscured the contents. The paper rustled as I pushed it aside and drank in the sight of lush golden fabric and the glitter of glass beads.

  I touched the cool fabric of the champagne charmeuse dress, relishing the way it slipped beneath my fingers.

  "What is this?"

  Adam leaned forward and clasped his hands together in front of his chin. His face was an odd mélange of hope and worry, blended with a bit of outright terror.

  "Take it out of the box."

  "It's beautiful."

  "You haven't taken it out of the box yet," Adam said. "For all you know, it's a pretty, silky tent."

  I lifted up the dress, but the fabric kept on coming. When the train finally slid out and hit the floor, I realized it was not simply a cocktail dress, but a full-length evening gown. Silky fabric gathered at the bust into a sweetheart neckline, with beaded straps that wrapped up to crisscross behind the neck. I caressed the subtle beadwork and turned it over to where the straps dropped and…

  "Where's the back of the dress?"

  Adam attempted to hide a grin. His golden eyebrows rose up in an exaggerated 'who … me?' expression, the kind a naughty boy might wear when he'd just been bagged snitching cookies.

  The straps crisscrossed behind the neck and then plunged straight down into a deep 'V', accentuated the entire way by a three-centimeter wide band of glittering, tiny seed beads. I opened my mouth to protest the inability to wear such a dress with any kind of support garment and recognized the vulnerability in Adam's eyes.

  "The sales clerk said a backless dress would be much more forgiving of an error on my part in measurement," Adam said. "Pippa helped me pick it out. She's a lot more attuned to fashion than I ever was."

  From his expression, I could tell it was a half-truth. Adam had picked out the dress because he liked it and he wanted to see me in it.

  "How'd you know what size I wear?"

  Adam grimaced.
/>   "I said, 'help, she's about this big.'" He held out his hands in a perfect approximation of my waist size. "Luckily for me, there are sales clerks who specialize in vague measurements made by desperate, clueless men."

  A lump rose in my throat. My mother used to dress me up and parade me around at second-tier society events and wannabe debutante balls, but this was the first time a man had ever gone out of his way to help me feel beautiful. I pressed the silky fabric against my cheek.

  "It's beautiful, Adam," I said. "I love it. But, uh … where will I wear it?"

  Adam squirmed.

  "I was, uh, hoping you might, uh, come with me tonight?"

  I gave him a blank stare. Adam's skin turned redder as embarrassment colored his cheeks.

  "To the Toowoomba Christmas Charity Benefit," Adam said. "Tonight. My company is the sponsor and, uh, my boss wants me there because I put the stationers at ease. I was, uh, was kinda hoping you might take pity on me and not make me go alone?"

  My first impulse was an ecstatic 'did he really just ask me out on a date?' My second thought was a much more pragmatic, 'no, it must be an obligation from his boss.' My third impression was a cold, wet blanket of reality, whispered in a combination of my Gitano grandmother's spooky prescience and my mother's ruthlessly pragmatic voice. 'Adam doesn't have a clue. He wants you there, but if you press him why, he'll just make up some excuse.'

  Adam looked crestfallen as he misinterpreted my scowl to mean I was turning him down.

  "You, um, you don't have to go if you don't want to. I just, um, I was kind of hoping … I'd really like to go with someone whose company I enjoy."

  I met his gaze, my employer who'd just told his manipulative wife to take a hike. He wanted to go with me. A nobody.

  "Yes," I said softly. "I'd be honored to be your escort."

  Adam looked relieved.

  Pippa came bursting out of the kitchen.

  "I told you she'd say yes!" Pippa squealed. "C'mon, Rosie, let's go try it on?"

  "It's too early," I said.

  Adam chuckled, his earlier unease now vanished.

  "In my experience, there's no such thing as 'too early' when it comes to a woman getting ready to go out for the night."

  "What about Pippa?" I said. "She's too little to stay home alone."

  "I called Linda Hastings," Adam said. "We'll drop her off on our way out, and then pick her up first thing in the morning so she's here when Frederick arrives at noon. She's already packed. All we have to do is make sure she gets dressed to Eva's standards."

  "Okay," I said. "But I'm all sweaty. First let me take a shower."

  I picked up the dress and carried it into the bedroom. A date. I was going out on a date with Adam Bristow, and Pippa knew…

  Not a date. A friend. I was like an old, comfortable shoe, someone to bring out in public around his boss and friends.

  Being a comfy shoe isn't so bad. It's the first thing a guy reaches for in the morning, the last thing he takes off at night, and the thing he holds onto the longest, long after it's grown old and ugly…

  --But I want to be a special snowflake like Eva Jackson…--

  She's a bitch…

  --Yeah. But look how long he put up with her crap.--

  My hand slid across the black, leather bracelet he'd brought back from the outback, the one I couldn't take off without cutting the straps. Adam had marked me with a piece of jewelry I couldn't take off.

  He put up with Eva for Pippa's sake. And now he's ditched her for -me-. So quit whining and go take that shower.

  I hopped into the shower and shut my eyes as tiny sharp needles of red hot heaven stabbed into my skin, turning it bright red and bringing the blood closer to the surface. At last my muscles began to relax as I slid the hot, soapy facecloth over my flesh, wondering what it would feel like if Adam touched me instead of my own hand.

  I rinsed the conditioner out of my long, black hair and turned off the hot water. I dried off and then used the towel to wipe the steam off of the mirror. While I wasn't beautiful, I knew I wasn't ugly, either. I brushed out my hair and blew it dry, something I rarely did because usually I just tied it behind my head, and pulled on my bathrobe to dash across the hallway to my bedroom.

  Pippa stood in front of my mirror, the long, champagne-gold dress held out in front of her.

  "Gold is the fairy queen's favorite color," Pippa said. "I thought it would be pretty with your dark hair."

  "You have good taste," I said.

  Pippa frowned.

  "Mommy says I'm hopelessly unfashionable."

  "My gypsy family members," I said. "They wear what they want. And then other people call them mysterious and try to copy them. So remember that when somebody tries to tell you what to wear. All that matters is it makes you feel good."

  Pippa gave me an apprehensive smile. I wondered if Adam was doing the wise thing, sending her to spend Christmas with her mother after he'd just taken an axe to Eva's scheme to manipulate him back into her life. Would Eva take it out on Pippa? Or would she spend the weekend trying to buy off her affections with clothes and gifts and, yes, maybe even her dream horse?

  "Okay, you. Out!" I said. "I've got to get dressed."

  Across the hall, I heard the shower turn on, no doubt Adam getting ready as well. Pippa skittered out and I shut the door. I slid the silky fabric over my head and tugged the dress down to fit around my curves. I stood in front of the mirror to adjust the bust line. The beadwork around the princess neckline accentuated my breasts; the empire waist highlighted my small waist, while the skirt skimmed over my too-athletic thighs and then flared out to completely hide my problem area from view. I caressed the fabric. The champagne color was almost the same shade of pale gold as Harvey's palomino mane.

  I turned around to look in the mirror and, ooh wee! Talk about air conditioning! The back plunged down so far that the waistline of my pantyhose showed and the sturdy elastic waist of my utilitarian cotton panties created an ugly lump in the otherwise smooth champagne perfection. I rummaged through the box, hoping Adam had thought to throw in a G-string or a thong. No such luck. Men never did think of those kinds of things. Not only would I have to go to this affair braless and backless, but I would also have to go commando.

  I slipped off my panties and studied the now-flawless line of the dress. If the opportunity presented itself, would I sleep with Adam? How would Pippa react if her father and I started sleeping in the same bedroom? Would it create problems with his impending divorce? Would it solidify our attraction and help Adam become less skittish? Or would it destroy the fragile dance we performed each night, each wanting to explore this thing which had grown up between us, but both of us afraid the other person would chew them up and spit them out?

  Take things slow, Rosie. The wild brumby stallion has placed his head upon your shoulder. Let him get used to the feel of the bridle before you saddle him up and take him for a ride…

  Bah! Why, at times such as this, did I always chicken out? I rummaged through my underwear drawer and found a pair of white satin panties that didn't cut into my skin. There. They were ugly. But so long as nobody peeked underneath my dress, the panty-line was nearly invisible.

  I slipped on my black kitten heels and turned to stare at my posterior in the mirror. It was a fine posterior, rounded out from years of squatting to lift hay bales and clinging to the saddle. The skirt gathered at the point of the backless 'V' to drape to the floor in a callipygous cascade. All my life men had stared at my breasts. This would be the first time I wore a 'come hither' sign on my butt.

  I tied up my long black hair into a sleek, sophisticated chignon and fiddled with my makeup. I didn't own any of the dark, sultry colors typical on fashion magazines, but when you are clever you can blend colors to come to a close approximation. There. I had no idea who that woman was who stared back at me from the mirror in an eloquent ball gown, but I kind of liked her. I hope Adam liked her too.

  I held up the front of the dress as I made my
way out to the living room where Adam waited, already changed into his tuxedo with a cummerbund and bowtie which matched my dress. Pippa clapped when she saw me, but Adam fell completely silent.

  I paused, feeling terribly self-conscious as I made my debut.

  "Well?"

  A plethora of emotions danced across Adam's features.

  "Would you mind terribly if I asked you to wear your hair down?"

  I pulled out the hairpins I used to keep my hair off of my neck. My long, dark hair fell down past my shoulder to touch the edge of my bust. I held my breath as Adam reached out and hesitantly touched it.

  "When I saw the dress," his voice rumbled, "and all I could think was how nice that color would look with your hair."

  "The dress is a bit long," I said. "I'm afraid I don't have a good pair of heels to go with it."

  Adam broke out into a grin.

  "Pippa took care of that." He gestured at his little girl. "Didn't you, sweetheart?"

  "Oh … yeah!" Pippa rummaged through the other bundles her father had carried in like a dog digging for a hare. She pulled out a shoebox and handed it to her father.

  Adam attempted to hand the shoebox to me.

  "No, daddy!" Pippa scolded him. "The prince is supposed to put the shoe on the princess' feet!"

  I sat down at the edge of the sofa and meekly submitted to being shod like a horse at the blacksmith. My feet filled with electricity as Adam slipped off my modest black kitten heels. His large, warm hands lingered on my instep. His startled eyes looked up to meet my gaze.

  "You're not wearing any pantyhose?"

  "I never wear pantyhose in the summer," I lied. "And the waistband shows through the back of the dress."

  Adam pulled the eloquent golden stilettos out of the box, slid them onto my foot, and then carefully buckled the bejeweled t-strap around my ankle, the kind of heels a girl could dance in. I twirled my ankles, admiring the way they made my calves look slender. Adam held out his arm and helped me up.

  "Pippa?" he asked. "Could you please fetch the final package?"