Chris Larabee glanced around the room, his hazel eyes taking in the other men crowded around him. As his searching look scanned the faces he realized he was one man short. He didn't have to look again to know who had not made an appearance. His frown deepened. Hell, he hadn't been so keen on this either but realizing it was all in fun and for a worthy cause he had agreed. Of course it hadn't affected his decision in any way that Judge Travis had firmly, but politely, requested his men participate.
They had balked at first, digging in their heels, refusals and excuses flying thick and fast. But as the week had progressed and they talked about it amongst themselves they had gotten into the spirit of the 'assignment' and actually seemed to be looking forward to it. It had helped immensely when the judge informed them they could plan their own evening's events and dress as they wished.
Chris had been forced to step in and clarify within the bonds of decency as he heard Buck asking what went well with a tiger striped thong he had purchased.
Looking at his men, he finally had to agree they had chosen fairly well and perhaps cut just as impressive figures as the other men from the various organizations which had agreed to accept the judge's offer. Lawyers, police and firemen, interns, teachers, even a Congressman. With a judicial eye, Larabee nodded to himself. Yeah, his men--less one--measured up just as well and perhaps a tad better but then maybe he was slightly biased.
Here they all were--minus his errant man--milling about behind the curtained stage, waiting to take part in the Judge's rather unorthodox find raiser for the new homeless shelter.
Realizing his missing member still had not shown, Chris dug his cell phone from his tux pocket and punched the familiar number on speed dial. It was several rings before it was answered. "Tanner!"
"That you, Chris?" the Texan drawled.
"Where the hell are you?" Chris hissed.
"Well, ya see I got..." Vin began.
"I don't give a flyin' fuck what ya got! Ya get yer sorry ass down here to the center and I mean now!"
"But..."
"I don't want no buts, Tanner.... unless it's yer skinny butt in a sling! Everyone else is here and I swear, if ya don't show in the next forty-five minutes, I'm putting ya on desk duty for the next three months! You'll catch every piss ant and bullshit detail that needs done from organizin’ the files ta scrubbin’ the toilets and everything in between. Especially anything that involves your lips on somebody's ass!" he threatened. "And believe me Tanner I can think of some pretty shitty jobs."
"Ya wouldn't!"
"Watch me! Now get yer ass down here!"
"I gotta--"
"Ya gotta get down here, Tanner and I do mean NOW!" He hung up, hoping he had put the fear of God--or at least Chris Larabee--in the young tracker who had been only too vocal in his reluctance to take part in the evening's activities.
Buck moved closer, having heard part of the conversation. "Think he'll show up?" he questioned softly.
"He damn well better!" Chris growled, shoving the phone back into his pocket and straightening his jacket. Getting his temper under control, he crossed to where the rest of his men stood in a group, watching and listening to the activities beyond the curtain.
As his gaze lingered on his rather motley crew he couldn't help comparing them to the nattily dressed group of CPAs waiting their turn he suddenly found himself silently praying the other groups would manage to raise sufficient funds to make up for what his team wouldn't.
At least, for the most part, his team's attire reflected the men themselves.
JD was dressed in a colorful tank top, jamms and sneakers, looking even more like a truant schoolboy than the crack computer expert he really was. Nathan looked conservative in a light polo shirt and dockers. Josiah was dressed in a brown nondescript suit which made him look like a preacher searching for a tent revival. Buck, as usual, had pushed the envelope, rejecting his old uniform and dressed in a wildly printed Hawaiian shirt, cutoffs, and sandals.
Ezra, always the cover of GQ, was decked out in a tailored Italian suit with a silk shirt and imported leather loafers. Maybe he at least would give the CPAs a good run for their money.
Chris glanced down at the black tuxedo he wore and grimaced. Maybe he had gone a tad overboard, but it was a little late to worry about his apparel now.
"How's it going out there?" he hooked his thumb toward the dark curtain separating the waiting area from the crowd. Loud catcalls, whistling, and cheers could be heard coming from the other side.
The men shrugged and it was JD who answered. "That big time lawyer Larkin's been highest at six hundred dollars."
Ezra sniffed and buffed at his fingernails. "Pocket change," he muttered under his breath.
But Buck heard. "So ya thinkin' y’all do better?"
"My dear Mister Wilmington, any woman with an ounce of breeding and sophistication would happily pay twice that amount to dine with a man of my obvious cultured tastes."
"Care to place a bet on that, Brother?" Josiah half-joked.
"Bet?" The gambler's eyes began to sparkle at the very mention of his favorite activity. "What kind of wager might you have in mind, sir?"
Josiah shrugged. "Well, we all got a pretty good idea who is gonna get high bid. Perhaps we could wager on just how much faith we have in our choice."
"Ezra...." Chris' tone held a warning for the con man. That's all he needed now, the judge catching wind of them gambling on the outcome of his charity event and back stage yet.
"Perhaps a slight wager, indeed, with the pot going to this most worthy noble cause we are endeavoring to improve." Ezra proposed. "Would that satisfy your sensibilities, Mister Larabee?"
'What the hell' They may have been coerced into volunteering but they were helping a worthy cause and he could see no reason why they shouldn't have a little fun. Chris nodded as the men began talking amongst themselves. A small notebook and pen magically appeared in the southerner's hand as Ezra began scribbling down their wagers.
Shortly, as the others continued to parade through the curtain, the elite team of men finalized their results. Buck, of course, with his self proclaimed 'animal magnetism' firmly believed he would bring the highest offer.
JD held out no such illusions for himself, the audience was made up of rich sophisticated women, and he wisely backed their leader. Josiah also decided Chris was the best bet, pointing out that Larabee held an air of danger and mystery which would certainly entice a woman to pay high dollar.
Nathan, surprising them all, placed his money on Ezra, saying oddly enough, women were just suckers for that smooth southern drawl and high browed refinement the gambler exuded.
Chris just shook his head, not willing to indulge in such activities, but secretly harboring the thought he, being the leader, was the obvious number one choice.
"What about Vin?" JD questioned.
"What about him?" Chris growled, noting yet again there was no sign of the sharpshooter.
"Is he gonna show up?" Josiah asked.
"He sure as shit better," Larabee ground out, clenching his jaw as he tried to keep his rising temper in check. Usually it was the southerner who had the audacity to buck his orders, not Tanner.
"I bet he'd back Ezra," JD stated, bringing a dimpled smile to that person's face.
"Gentlemen? If you are ready?" One of the attendants motioned for them and Chris looked around, realizing they were the last group being offered...or led to the slaughter, his mind sniped.
Having drawn straws as to who went first, JD, with a nervous laugh, stepped through the curtain. The bright lights at the edge of the stage blinded him and he half stumbled over to the podium where the judge was reading from his card.
"Ladies, this is JD Dunne. Mister Dunne--"
"Forget the kids! Bring on the men!" someone yelled from the crowd.
"--hails from Boston," the judge continued, ignoring the heckler's catcalls and boos. "and is a computer expert.--"
"Nerd!" the same voice called out.
"He enjoys sports and is offering an evening of pizza, beer and a Rockies game. Who'll start the bidding?"
Several of the women on the front row of seats laughed and one of them called out, "Ten dollars!"
The judge frowned, seeing the hurt in JD's dark eyes. "Ladies, that wouldn't even cover the pizza. What am I offered for an evening with this fine young man?"
"Twenty five..." Someone spoke up. "I've got a kid sister and he is kind of cute."
Agreeing with the woman's logic, the bidding slowly climbed to eighty-five dollars before a small voice with more than a hint of anger at what she considered an insult to the young man spoke up from the middle of the room.
"I-I bid one hundred and fifty dollars."
"Now that young lady knows quality when she sees it!...Sold to..." As the young woman stepped up, the judge smiled, "to Miss Wells."
With a bright smile on her face, Casey moved to the exit ramp and tucked her arm through JD's. She raked her gaze over the audience as if telling the women they didn't know what they were missing.
"I love pizza and the Rockies," she whispered, digging into her wallet to pay the cashier at the back of the room.
"Ya can't afford ta spend that much money." The hacker whisper, worried she was wasting money she needed for textbooks.
"Didn't wanna take a chance on one of the fancy rich bitches corruptin' ya." Knowing how worried the younger man was about being embarrassed in front of the other team members, Vin and Ezra had each approached the young woman and donated fifty dollars to the cause, extracting her promise of silence. "Consider yourself an early birthday present."
JD gave her a grateful smile and hugged her close as they stepped aside and waited to see how the rest of the team fared.
"Nathan Jackson is a local physician, who also volunteers his free time to the homeless clinic just across the street. He believes the lady who bids on him should plan on a quiet night on the town, going to the restaurant of her choice. What am I bid?"
"One hundred dollars," a voice called out.
"One ten," another countered.
"One twenty five," a third chimed in.
"Two twenty five." A beautiful young woman stepped forward, glaring at the other woman.
The first three bidders shook their heads. "He's all yours, honey," one of them sang out and, with a smile, Rayne was only too happy to escort Nathan to the cashier.
Josiah stepped out on the stage. Several women let out soft gasps, and a ripple raced through the females, wondering if the gray haired man was that big all over.
Travis waited until the whisperings quieted somewhat. "Mister Sanchez has led a varied and interesting life, first traveling all over the world with his missionary parents and later working for the FBI. He speaks a multitude of foreign languages, loves foreign foods, and philosophy. His idea of a perfect date is a quiet dinner of Indian food, followed by a lecture series at the college. Your bids, ladies?"
"Oh, my!" An excited voice called out, "Two hundred dollars!"
"Two fifty--two seventy five--three hundred--"
The bids, to everyone of the teams' surprise, rapidly climbed to three hundred and ninety dollars. With a bright smile, Josiah proudly offered his arm to the bashful woman who stepped forward introducing herself as Celia Greene. Judge Travis couldn't help but think the two made a good pair.
In her capacity as a social worker, Celia, a few years younger than Sanchez, had appeared several times before Travis' bench on behalf of her young clients during his short stint in family court.
Eyeing the ladies' man who moved out on the stage, flaunting his 'animal magnetism', Travis winced slightly before beginning. "Ladies, here is a perfect example of Denver's finest....and I must state those are his words, not mine,"
The crowd erupted in laughter and Buck, a born clown, turned to stick his tongue out at the older man before turning back to the woman and suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.
"Mister Wilmington is an ex-Tomcat pilot and states here, that yes, gold wings and a uniform are available upon request. Buck has traveled the world on his various military assignments, none of which he can discuss for if he does, then he would have to kill you." Everyone laughed and the judge groaned, "That's an old one, Buck," he pointed out, teasing the man unmercifully.
"His idea of a perfect evening..." he trailed off. "I'm sorry to say ladies, I can't read this in mixed company. Suffice to say, Mister Wilmington would give you an evening you wouldn't soon forget."
The bids came fast and furious--three hundred fifty--four twenty five--four seventy five, each increase making the pilot glow and strut just a little more.
The bidding ran up to five fifty and he found himself the escort of an elegantly dressed older professional woman who eyed him lustily as she opened her wallet to pay.
Ezra quietly stepped out on the stage and crossed to where the judge cleared his throat. "Mister Standish hails from Georgia. There is little he has not seen or done and he believes an evening out should be one of class, good taste and elegance. Perhaps dining in the finest restaurant, capped off by champagne and fresh strawberries in the moonlight and --"
"Six hundred!" someone called out without waiting for the judge to finish.
A bidding war raged for several minutes as the offers climbed to seven hundred and fifty. Looking quite pleased with himself, Ezra escorted the graceful woman who had the highest bid to the cashier and waited with his friends to see how Chris did.
Chris glared at the door a final time, willing Tanner through it before straightening his cuffs and stepping out through the curtain. He was going to kill Tanner, no two ways about it. His anger at the Texan made his eyes snap with brilliant green fire.
The women ohhed in appreciation of saving the best for last.
"Chris Larabee is a ranch owner and former Navy SEAL. He lives out in the valley on five hundred acres and is offering a quiet dinner, front row seats to a current play, and drinks afterwards."
"Six hundred!"
Travis shook his head. "Ladies, ladies," he admonished, "that's not a bid, that's an insult!"
"Seven twenty five!"
"That's more like it. Thank you. Do I hear seven fifty?"
"Eight fifty!"
Everyone turned to eye the blond woman who stood and moved to the edge of the stage. Even a blind man could see she was laying claim to Larabee and just as they had with Rayne and Casey, with a sigh, the other bidders nodded concession.
"Sold for eight hundred and fifty dollars to my daughter in law, Mary Travis."
As Chris stepped down to take her arm, the judge brought the house down by stage whispering, "Make sure you have her home by midnight, Chris."
Everyone laughed at Larabee's expense, but he only had eyes for Mary. The judge quickly head counted the men and their dates standing at the back of the room. "I seem to be missing--"
Larabee turned to make excuses for Vin's absence when the doors suddenly burst open with a strong gust of wind and a figure stood in them, back lit by the street lights outside.
The woman gasped in surprise, some in shock, some in delight, some in total appreciation of the slender figure who moved down the aisle toward the stage. Gasps turned to moans of pleasure when he slowed and turned to face them.
Long curly hair tousled about his unshaven cheeks. Dressed in dusty torn blue jeans, a black T-shirt and blue denim shirt which hung open, his boot heels echoed on the hard tile floor as he crossed to stand near Travis.
Vin Tanner, looking at the judge, saw none of the hungry eyed feminine looks which danced over his body.
"Sorry I'm late." Steeling himself, Tanner turned to face the female audience, tossing his boss a glare that promised retribution.
In truth, the tracker had been sitting in the parking lot trying to convince himself this would be fun, when Chris called. The garment bag containing his suit and tie lay on the passenger seat. It was for a good cause and he wouldn't be alone. The others would be making jackasses out of themselves as well.
Strutting around on a makeshift stage so any number of women could judge his attributes, or lack there of, announcing both with their bids wasn't exactly the shy Texan's idea of a good time.
Tanner had decided he must have been temporarily insane to agree to anything this outrageous and returning to his right mind, he would simply drive to his cabin and stay there until the rest of the world also regained its senses. As he reached for the key still secure in the ignition, his cell phone had begun to ring.
He could ignore it...Nah...Might as well get it over with. Chris would understand. After all, Vin couldn't help it if he was sick. Surely Larabee wouldn't want him to infect everyone with his cold germs. Tanner could put up with drinking that God awful herbal tea of Nathan's and having Chris hovering around until Jackson declared him well again if it meant not making a fool of himself tonight.
Unfortunately, Chris hadn't bought it. Larabee's threats had made it clear Tanner would be on the man's shit list for a long time to come.
Trying to gather his nerve and finally giving in to his own curiosity, Vin had climbed from his truck, approached the building and cracked open the door just enough to allow him to watch his team being auctioned off.
Unnoticed by anyone, he'd grinned at Buck's antics, Ezra's apparent cocky self-confidence and Larabee's obvious relief when Mary and staked her claim for the entire audience. Fate seemed to be working against him as a sudden strong gust of wind had caught the door just right wrenching it from his grasp.
The judge, stirring from the shock of the seventh member's rather unorthodox entrance, cleared his throat, realizing he had nothing written down for Tanner. "Uh, ladies, this is our final offering of the evening. Vin Tanner." He tried to wing it from what he knew of the man. "Mister Tanner was born in Texas and has been involved in law enforcement most of his adult life. I-I, ah, believe, although I might be mistaken, his idea of a date would be a quiet day horseback riding in the hills, exploring uncharted territory, followed by a fresh caught trout supper cooked over an open fire."
"Oh, honey, I'm uncharted!" someone called out, causing laugher and Vin's face to blush bright red under his tan. He studiously avoided looking at any of his so-called friends, keeping his eyes locked on the back wall.
"Bidding will start--"
"Nine hundred!"
"Ladies, you are offering that pittance for this fine young man..." He motioned for Vin to take off his denim shirt. Certain he was going to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that a person could indeed die of embarrassment, Tanner did as Travis requested and as he did, the bids escalated.
"One thousand--thousand fifty!--twelve hundred--thirteen hundred--fifteen hundred--fifteen fifty--"
"Fifteen fifty one!" Everyone laughed.
"She thinks she's on 'The Price is Right'." The comment brought more laughter.
"Fifteen seventy five!"
"Two thousand!" a laughing voice called out.
Everyone, including the six men at the back of the room strained to see who had made the bid, but the couldn't see in the crowd as women dug through purses, quickly counting cash, calculating how much they could pull from their accounts and asked their neighbor where the closest ATM could be located.
"Two thousand one hundred!" some one else sang out,
"Three thousand!" another voice upped and even Ezra's eyebrows arched.
"Three thousand fifty!" It was a cash only auction and the bidder in the front row was urging her friends to lend her their money.
"Five thousand."
The room went deadly silent and even Vin straightened, searching the crowd to see who had made such an offer.
"Five thousand and one!" The front row bidder was digging change from her pockets, refusing to give up.
"Seventy five hundred!"
The second bidder shook her head, and gave Vin a regretful smile.
"I have seventy five hundred once, twice, sold to...." The judge's eyes widened as two women stepped forward.
The other team members stared and Buck's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Twins?!?!"
Travis smiled as each of the ladies, who could have easily qualified as Hefner's playmates, moved to Tanner each latching onto an arm. The judge stifled a chuckle as the handsome young man's face blushed an even deeper red. "Son, you're sold to the Donovan Twins."
"Hey," Buck called out from the back of the room. "Is that fair?" he groused as his date attempted to drag him toward the door.
Ezra with a much put upon sigh, tore up his page of bets, tossing the bits of paper into the air like confetti. "I might have believed Mister Tanner's lost little boy appearance would appeal to the fairer sex, but I certainly would not have bet on this, " he wrinkled his nose in distaste, "cowboy demeanor."
One of the willowy blond twins turned to eye the southerner, "You do know what they say about cowboys, don't you?" she questioned with a husky voice.
All the men leaned forward as one, "No..."
"Ya don't call him a cowboy until you see him ride..."
Hips swaying enticingly, they escorted Vin toward the door, where the lanky cowboy turned to look at his friends, and with a slow wink, uttered, "Yipee-I-O, Pilgrims!"
THE END