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elegance and diamond dust all rolled up in one beautiful pendant. So, which of you proprietors of fine taste will start the bidding at a paltry five hundred dollars?”
    Instantly a dozen paddles around the ballroom shot into the air; Ben pointed and acknowledged each in turn.
    “Five hundred, six hundred, seven hundred,” he called out. “Eight hundred, nine hundred, and there’s lucky one thousand, over there by the coffee cart, the little lady in blue.”
    “It’s pretty, in an old-fashioned way,” Jenna said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “But really, how often can you wear an hourglass?” She held the auction catalogue, open to the pendant, so Eve could see it. “And what on earth would you wear it with?”
    Eve didn’t reply. She barely heard the question, her attention riveted on the gold hourglass the actress was holding up to catch the light. As the young woman twirled the pendant, delicate white beams flashed from it, slicing through the air like shooting stars. Eve was captivated, struck by a sudden sense of longing that made her fingers itch to pick up her paddle.
    The bid amount was climbing steadily higher, and the number of bidders was dwindling, dropping to six, then five, then four.
    Any minute , she thought, any minute there will be a winner. The auction would move on to the next item and the pendant would belong to someone else. Something deep inside her rebelled at the prospect.
    Her heart was pounding and Ben’s words were spinning in her head.
    Don’t be a fool , cautioned her common sense.
    Any minute, any minute, any minute.
    “Two thousand six hundred,” said the auctioneer.
    Next to stardust, there’s nothing more magical in the whole world.
    And just like that, the night that had started out so unremarkably, suddenly became something else.

Three
    L ater, she couldn’t recall actually reaching for her paddle or lifting it into the air, but suddenly it was high in the air, doing an excited little “Look at me, look at me” dance. Clearly her innate bidding style was not from the school of subtle sophistication.
    It didn’t take long for Ben to notice and nod in her direction. “Ah, a new player. A bid of three thousand from the lovely Eve Lockhart.”
    Three thousand dollars. Somewhere at the far outer reaches of consciousness, Eve understood that she had lost her mind. It didn’t stop her. Hell, it didn’t even slow her down. The bidding continued to climb and she climbed with it. What difference did it make? She’d blown through her rainy-day fund with her first bid. Now her vacation savings, Christmas account, and even Rory’s college fund were all lined up at the chopping block, waiting to be kissed good-bye.
    Eve didn’t care. For the moment the only thing she cared about was walking out of there with the pendant. When the bidding reached five thousand, a woman seated a few tables in front of her shook her head and lowered her paddle and Eve felt a surge of glee that she knew was totally irrational.
    “And then there were two,” announced Ben. From his podium onstage, he smiled at her and rubbed his palms together. “Do I hear five thousand two hundred and fifty?”
    The bid increments had jumped from one hundred dollars to two-fifty, and for the first time she hesitated, wavering, but the auction warrior princess who’d commandeered her body refused to entertain the notion of quitting. Eve took a big swallow and nodded.
    “Fifty-five hundred?” he asked, his gaze sliding to the opposite side of the ballroom.
    And back to her.
    “Fifty-seven fifty?”
    Swallow. Nod.
    “Six thousand?”
    “Sixty-five hundred?”
    Five-hundred-dollar increments now. This was crazy. She nodded.
    “Seven thousand?”
    “Seventy-five hundred?”
    Each time the bid was tossed to Eve, she nodded quickly, before she had time to think. If she allowed herself to think, sanity might squeeze back in. She recalled reading somewhere that you should never bid at an auction without