Bidding For Her Curves - Flora Ferrari Page 0,12

and probably why she’s kept me for so long. I tend to get absorbed in my work after a while and today I almost forget all about the auction dinner, but never about Mason.

Not for one second.

He’s away there under the surface, like a pleasant itch that I don’t mind having.

A part of me wanting to hold off having it scratched until I can be sure it’s either the man himself doing the scratching. Or I guess I’ll have to take the plunge and take care of it myself.

Most likely it will be myself at this rate.

But something else tells me to be patient, something tells me that good things are coming to those who wait.

As the afternoon drags on, I notice first that Karen hasn’t come back, and when I get up to stretch some and switch on some more lights, I notice my own gown hanging by the door.

I groan and checking the time, realizing there’s no way I can get it pressed, let alone adjusted now.

Screwing up my face, I consider my options. The first and easiest one is to just not go to the stupid auction dinner.

I’ll pay the donation myself, it’s not as if anyone’s actually gonna bid for me.

But what about Mason?

I rub my eyes, and then my belly. I haven’t eaten anything all day, and this morning’s encounter has become more and more a fanciful memory as the day’s gone by.

I smile at thought of Mason, his chivalry, and most of all, his scent, that body. I could go on about it in my mind forever.

But really? Is Mason Thorne really going to miss me if I don’t go to one of his company dinners?

He must have a thousand hands to shake, important people to see.

I don’t see him pining after me. Sure he did call, but maybe he was really concerned about those programs.

‘I wished you’d stayed.’

I look up suddenly. It’s as though the man himself just spoke.

A shiver runs up my spine and I check the time again, rationalizing to myself that if I hustle, I can finish what I need to, get changed here, and just go to the dinner in my old, undressed, probably won’t fit dress.

If anything, it’s a free meal and I am starving.

With about an hour to spare, I finish up my paperwork and the other jobs Karen had listed for me. Not a bad day’s work if I do say so.

Pity, it’s for free.

The office phone rings. Karen’s phone.

My heart stops for a moment and then glancing at the clock again, I figure it’s her.

Or it maybe it’s Mason.

In two steps I’m picking it up, my heart fluttering as I half expect to hear his deep, commanding voice again.

But it’s freaking Karen. Of course, it is.

“I don’t think you should be answering my phone,” she says, her voice sounding thicker than usual. “But I’ll make an exception for today. Did you finish everything?” she asks icily.

I tell her I have, and that I’m about to get ready, but she cuts me off.

“I doubt you had time to do everything, McPherson.”

She only calls me McPherson when she’s pulling rank, or showing off in front of other people. I can hear voices, the tinkling of glasses and I join the dots.

“You owe me for the dry cleaning too, by the way. My gown, they had to spend an extra half hour cleaning it,” she slurs, and I begin to wonder why she’s even calling.

I wished I’d let it ring out.

But it might’ve been Mason.

“I’d better get going if I wanna make it on time,” I hear myself saying, trying to sound cheerful.

Karen grunts and hangs up.

I just shake my head, telling myself again it could have been Mason calling, and that I have to get ready.

There’s no time to go all the way home and shower then change, plus I haven’t even tried to get into that damned dress yet.

I hope a day’s worth of not eating helps.

I know I can use Karen’s bathroom only because I just spent an hour cleaning it myself. There are fresh towels and a hairdryer there too.

I lock the office doors from the inside, just to be double sure I won’t be disturbed, and have what must be the shortest shower of my life, followed by an even quicker blow dry.

Something about using work bathrooms, especially Karen’s, makes me cringe but I make it.

Now for the dress.

Grateful I gave myself the best part of an hour to get ready, squeezing into