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She raised her gavel. “Going once, going—”
    â€œThree thousand,” Anson called out.
    Someone had to stop this foolishness.
    â€œHell’s bells. Three thousand dollars a day,” Nick ground out as though he had made a two-dollar bid at the racetrack. “for one week minimum.”
    Josie’s mouth dropped open and the gavel hit the podium. “Sold! I guess.” Obviously rattled, she sputtered, “Sold to Nick Dartmouth for, uh, twe-twenty-one thousand dollars?”
    Nick nodded before moving his gaze to McCall. Her piercing eyes were a storm of fury.
    His knee hurt like crazy, but he’d been hurt worse sliding into home. Pushing back from the table, he limped toward the stage—toward an icy stare masking the most captivatingly beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. And she seemed completely unaware of her desirability.
    A volunteer handed Nick a bouquet of long-stemmed yellow roses cushioned against white baby’s breath.
    He made a princely bow and extended the flowers to McCall.
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    McCall returned a shallow curtsey, squared her shoulders, and tossed back her head as Madeline had instructed earlier in the day when she gave McCall her tips.
    Speaking softly to the devilishly handsome rogue whose eyes she would prefer to scratch out because he had been so patronizing with his bid, McCall said, “Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Dartmouth.”
    A rakish smile crossed his lips. “No. Thank you, ma’am.”
    Hurrying off the stage, McCall’s trembling legs carried her to the exit. Somewhere in the distance she heard the roar of the crowd as Josie called the auction closed, announcing that the benefit had exceeded their expectations.
    All McCall could think was don’t let Nick see me cry . Regardless of how her heart raced or how difficult it became to breathe or how close to buckling her legs felt, she would not cry. Torment gnawed at her insides.
    â€œMcCall, wait.” Nick called from behind.
    She increased her pace. Her face burned with embarrassment. Rich people acting like spoiled brats and using her as their pawn hurt and hurt badly. No doubt, she served as the laughingstock of the gala.
    Nearing the exit, McCall dropped the roses in a trash can and hit the double doors. They flew wide open, and she rushed down the hall toward the stairwell.
    Faster and faster.
    Farther and farther.
    Nick overtook her, and she found herself whirled around and pulled against his rock-hard chest. Molding his full length to her, he pinned her against the wall.
    â€œLet me go,” she spat. Her heart pounded and her face grew hot with humiliation. She bit back tears.
    â€œMcCall, what’s wrong?”
    â€œYou’re a cad, Nicodemus! A heartless, cold, nasty cad.” As he pressed closer, she felt his erratic heartbeat, upsetting her balance.
    â€œI didn’t mean to be.” His brown eyes blazed with his love of combat.
    â€œBut, you were . . . you are.” Through a veil of near tears, she fought for control. “I hate you.” Fists pounded against a wall of pure muscle. Pushing, she struggled to get free.
    â€œYou aren’t capable of hating anybody.” Nick cuffed her wrists with one strong hand and held them to his chest.
    â€œMaybe hate is too strong of a word, but you embarrassed me. I can see the headlines now: ‘Millionaires duke it out at auction until playboy pays a ridiculously vulgar amount for poor displaced Texan.’”
    â€œI’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I know how much you dreaded the whole ordeal tonight and thought I’d help you by making sure you weren’t forced into a date with someone who doesn’t know or appreciate you.”
    â€œDon’t think that you know how I feel because you don’t!”
    Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, he whispered, “I’m just a lost ship adrift at sea in a raging storm.” He