One Unforgettable Kiss

“So don’t be shy. We had this auction just for you ’cause we knew we’d get you a good man that way. Good men always step up to the plate,” Connie continued.

The woman—the one Connie had called Harper—didn’t move. She was wearing a long black-and-white skirt and a sleeveless white blouse. Her hair was pulled back from her face, so Garrek couldn’t tell how long it was.

“You were the highest bidder, coming in at two thousand twenty-five dollars,” Beuford said, stepping around to clap a hand on Garrek’s shoulder.

“Woo-wee, over two thousand dollars for a date with our little Harper!” Connie yelled.

She grabbed Harper by the hand and pulled her closer to where Garrek stood, shocked speechless by what was happening. He’d been in Temptation for a little over an hour, and already he was the center of attention. Again.

To be fair, he was sharing the attention with the strangely quiet Harper, just as years ago he’d shared the spotlight with his five siblings. Wait, had they just said he was the highest bidder? Meaning he was paying for a date?

The thought was almost laughable, because the last thing in this world Garrek wanted right now was a date, and he certainly wouldn’t be paying for one if he did. Clapping resumed, and music started to play as Connie pushed Harper’s hand into Garrek’s. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the little spike of heat at the contact. But he instantly brushed it aside. Garrek had grown really good at ignoring things he didn’t want to deal with.

“Well, say something, Harper,” Connie insisted and put the microphone in front of the woman.

Without thinking twice, Garrek took the microphone and spoke into it. “Harper and I want to thank you for coming out tonight. We’d also like to announce that the money raised here tonight will be donated to—” He paused.

Then he looked over to Harper. Garrek was six feet even. Harper was a tall woman, her shoulder only a couple inches shorter than his.

“The Veterans Fund,” she said after staring at him questioningly for a few seconds. “The two thousand and twenty-five dollars will go to Temptation’s Veterans Fund and provide support for those who fought hard to protect us and this country.”

Garrek’s first thought was, how had she known who he was?

Connie snatched the microphone at that point. “No. No. That’s not the plan for the money. It’s going to the Guild, because we planned this little event. We’re getting a sign to hang over the doorway to our headquarters. It’ll be real classy, and that way everyone will know where to find us.”

Connie nodded as she spoke, as if everyone was naturally going to agree with her. The six women whom Garrek suspected were also from the Guild mimicked Connie’s movements, and there were some murmurs from the crowd that said they were confused. Well, they could join the club, Garrek thought.

Then he spoke again, without the need for a microphone. He was loud enough that they could hear him across the room where the bar was. He knew this by the shocked look he received from the bartender after he announced, “My check will be written to the Veterans Fund. Any other proceeds from this event can be used for whatever purpose the Guild decides.”

Connie gasped and clamped her thin lips closed, her facial expression clearly annoyed. Garrek doubted she was thinking about touching his pecs again at this moment. Beuford looked from Garrek to Connie and back to Garrek again without saying a word. The once-clapping crowd had now fallen quiet, some of them with mouths open in surprise, others whispering to the person next to them. All of them staring at Garrek.

How the hell had this happened?

He’d come here to get away from people looking at him in question. Now, it seemed he’d walked right into yet another sticky situation with a woman. He wanted to curse, or possibly even run as far from this place as he’d just run from Washington. Instead, Garrek made his way off the stage, slowly pulling the woman named Harper along with him.

* * *

Harper was done!

The only reason she’d put on a skirt and come to the Sadie Hawkins dance was for business. What better way to promote Presley Construction—a company owned and operated by a woman—than to come to a dance where the women were supposedly liberated enough to ask the men out? Yet these same women apparently thought Harper needed help finding a man, when the truth was Harper wasn’t even sure she ever wanted a man permanently in her life. She certainly wasn’t on a personal crusade to find one who would take precedence over everything else in her life.

Coming here tonight had seemed like a good idea when she’d first thought of it. This dance was an annual event, like so many others in Temptation. Up until tonight, it had been one that Harper had proudly stated she’d never attended.

She shouldn’t have broken the streak.

If she’d known what the Magnolia Guild had secretly planned for tonight, she wouldn’t have come. In fact, she might have left town completely. How embarrassing. How totally and utterly humiliating, to stand on that stage and be auctioned off like cattle. But she’d been trapped. Running off the stage and out of the hall would have definitely made her the butt of the whole town’s jokes for the foreseeable future. Forget trying to get anyone to hire her to do construction work—they’d be too busy laughing at poor little Harper who’d had to be auctioned off to a man instead of being able to get a date on her own.

So she’d stood there, frozen to that spot, staring at one of the columns in the center of the room that had been wrapped in pink and blue streamers. Everyone was staring at her, she knew. They were talking about her again. Some things never changed, especially not in Temptation.

“Who will bid two hundred and fifty dollars to take Harper out on a date?” Beuford Danforth had asked after Connie had not very politely dragged Harper onto the stage.

Beuford was the unofficial host of just about every event in Temptation, since he’d been a radio personality for twenty-five years before retiring. When there wasn’t some type of town get-together, Beuford could be found on the wraparound front porch of his lime green–shingled house, putting together one of his Lego creations. He was seventy-two years old and still fascinated with the toys.

Harper’s cheeks had burned, not only at the question, but at the complete and utter silence that fell over the room like a tent. She’d clasped her hands in front of her and clenched her fingers until she worried she might actually pull off skin. Her heart beat wildly and her shoulders had begun to shake.

All reactions she’d had before and ones she’d sworn she would never have again.

She’d tuned out everything by that point—everything except the man touching her hand. At that moment a jolt brought her back to reality, and she’d looked up into warm brown eyes. He wasn’t from Temptation; that was her first coherent thought as he held her hand tightly in his. There was no man in Temptation who looked like this. Harper would remember if there was.

He was taller than her, with an athletic build—a very toned and alluring athletic build. His hands were large and engulfed her long fingers. His light complexion was a perfect backdrop to the dark hair of his goatee and thick eyebrows. He was wearing simple dark slacks and a white T-shirt, yet he still managed to look like a movie star—perfect enough to be on the big screen seducing women across the world.

Women like her.

No, never her, she’d reminded herself just in time to reply to the question he’d asked.

“The Veterans Fund,” she’d said after taking what she hoped was a mind-clearing deep breath and releasing it. “The two thousand and twenty-five dollars will go to Temptation’s Veterans Fund and provide support for those who fought hard to protect us and this country.”

Her grandfather and her father and all the other brave men like them.

Connie hadn’t liked that one bit, a fact Harper knew she’d hear about in town for the next week. When Constance Gensen was upset, everyone in Temptation heard about it. This time, as was the case too often in the past, Harper would be involuntarily entrenched in Connie’s discontent.

“Do you need a ride home?”

His voice was deep and had the effect of a good shot of whiskey—grabbing her immediate attention and making her shiver all over.

“Ah, no,” Harper replied and then cleared her throat. “I drove my car.”

“Because you didn’t have a date.”

“I didn’t need one,” she replied quickly and with certainty.

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” he said and then looked away.

“You’re not from around here,” Harper stated. “Are you visiting someone?”

He didn’t reply, but he did look at her again. Then, as if just remembering, he looked down at her hand. The one he was still holding. Harper’s cheeks warmed again and she attempted to pull away, but he held tight.

The Freedom Hall—now called the Gloria Ramsey Place—was part of the old shoe warehouse that had gone out of business ten years ago. The building had been purchased by Kittinger Hale, a retired schoolteacher who had hit the lottery and found his birth mother in the same week. Gloria Ramsey had been on the run from her abusive husband when she’d stopped in Temptation to give birth to the son she would leave at All Saints Hospital the next morning. Buying the building and slapping Gloria’s name across the front window was—Harper figured—Kittinger’s tribute to Gloria. To the citizens of Temptation, it hadn’t meant nearly as much. The building would always be called the Freedom Hall, after Freedom-brand shoes, which had been manufactured there for fifty years before the company went out of business.

The building was on the corner of Maple and Grove Streets. There was a black streetlamp still sporting the multicolored spring fling banner just a few feet away from them. The light was excruciatingly bright, bringing even more attention to the fact that they were holding hands.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said. Harper stopped looking around to see if anyone was outside at the moment, and stared at him.

“Neither should I,” she replied.

He was rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand at this moment. Attempting to pull away again was certainly an option, except that Harper didn’t want to break the contact. The warmth from his hand was comforting, his strong grip protective and the heated spikes moving quickly throughout her body foreign, but not unpleasant.

“I should go,” he said.