Rick turned and reached for the clipboard in the volunteer’s hand. He offered a more genuine smile to the fiftysomething lady and glanced at the last name and the amount on the bottom of the sheet. “You’re Mr. Connors?” he asked the tall man.
“I am.”
“Your last bid was for two thousand five hundred.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re Mr. Phifer?”
Phifer wiggled his pudgy finger over the entry prior to Connors. “That’s my bid, which was done right as the time limit for this table was up.”
Rick glanced up to see Zach and Michael walking toward him. They stopped short to watch.
“Well, since there seems to be some discussion about timing, let’s do the diplomatic thing and make this a live auction. The bid’s at twenty-five hundred, Phifer, will you offer more?”
Phifer narrowed his eyes. “Twenty-six.”
Rick swiveled his head to Connors.
“Three thousand.”
Rick turned to Phifer.
“This is crap. My bid was the last one and on time.”
Connors crossed his arms over his chest with a shit-eating grin on his face. The lookie-loo crowd around them had grown silent.
Rick had no idea who these men were, or how connected they might be to Karen and Zach, but he was getting a serious headache.
“If it’s too steep for you, back off,” Connors said.
Phifer attempted to push around Rick.
Rick pushed the clipboard into Phifer’s chest, the smile on his face dropped. “I wouldn’t even try.”
Michael took that moment and lifted his voice above the mumbling. “Six thousand.”
The crowd gasped and all eyes swiveled to the celebrity.
Then, as if it was a game, Zach added, “Seven thousand.”
“Eight.”
When it reached ten grand, Zach patted Michael on the back. “All yours, brother.”
Connors and Phifer glared at each other but then seemed to notice the scene they’d both made. When the two men moved in opposite directions, neither of them winning, the crowd dispersed.
“Man, Zach, you need to screen your guests better.”
Zach shrugged.
The volunteer thanked Rick and moved to the next table.
Rick turned to find the focus of both men on him, their expressions unreadable. Then he remembered the small public display of affection with Judy.
“What can I do for you, boys?” The coming conversation was inevitable. One better off done and under the table.
“Just a chat,” Michael said as he led them away from the mass of bodies in the auction tent.
Zach started first. “So, Judy?”
Just the mention of her name brought a smile to Rick’s face.
When he didn’t say anything, Michael added, “Our baby sister.”
“A sister, yes, a baby, no.” Nothing about Judy was infantile.
Both men glared at that.
“Should we be worried about you?” Zach asked.
Rick would have been offended if he didn’t know that these men were only trying to protect their sibling. “I don’t think it’s me you need to worry about.” He turned to Michael. “Do you want to enlighten Zach about the conversation you had with Judy as you were leaving to come here?”
Michael narrowed his eyes, then realized what Rick was talking about. “Alliance.”
“Right. I don’t think any of us want to see Judy signing up . . . am I right?”
Zach glanced beyond the two of them toward the house. “She wouldn’t.”
“I don’t know, Zach,” Michael said. “She was talking about it.”
Zach clutched his fists. “No. Just no.”
Rick let out a sigh.
“Judy’s sensitive, Rick. Messing with her just to keep her from Alliance will backfire,” Michael told him.
He shook his head. “Who said that’s what I was doing?” Exploring the possibilities wasn’t messing with someone, was it? He questioned his own intentions for about ten seconds. The chase was exciting, the sizzle worth the run. Besides, he’d waited nearly a year to pursue his little pixie.
“Don’t hurt her,” Zach warned.
“It’s hard to hurt her when she won’t agree to go out on a date.”
Michael laughed. “You’re kissing her and not dating her?”
Zach shook his head, tossed his hands in the air. “I don’t want the details.”
The three of them started back toward the house when Michael asked, “So what did I win at the auction?”
Rick, realizing he still held the clipboard, looked at the auction description and burst out laughing. “Looks like you and four of your youngest friends are going on a studio tour at Nickelodeon.”
Judy purposely wore what she called her power suit. It wasn’t a suit, but a black pencil skirt complete with black boots and a red blazer. If anyone at Benson & Miller was going to notice her, she needed to start forcing some eyes her way. She showed up thirty minutes early Monday morning and finished the mail detail before the receptionist answered the first call.
As expected, Mr. Archer had a pile of papers, mainly crap from his desk that needed to be sorted and filed or given back to him in some kind of order before noon. She could have finished the job in two hours, but took her time looking over the designs, the contracts for future projects.
Two of the projects were remodels of office buildings, nothing too grand, and nothing that required anything other than a facelift on the interior. The third project was nothing more than a bid with a few sketches on a blank piece of paper. A performing arts center was going up in Santa Barbara, and Benson & Miller were apparently in the running for the contract. The size of the proposed site would house the square footage needed for an eight-thousand-seat hall. The conservative bid wouldn’t lend itself to much in the way of details. She pored over the estimates, the details of what the committee in Santa Barbara wanted, and started to sketch. The mission-style buildings in the area helped the overall design in her head take shape. The morning flew by, and when she glanced at the clock it was eleven thirty. She made a dash to the copy room, made her own portfolio of the project to take home, and then gathered up all the files to return to Mr. Archer’s office.
With her hands full, the phone on her desk rang. It never rang. “Judy Gardner,” she answered.
“Uhm, Judy?”
It was the receptionist, Nancy, and she sounded winded.
“I’m running to Archer’s office, Nancy, what’s up?”