Jacy blew him a kiss, promising to show her appreciation after the auction. He could have his way with her.
Risk drove the crowd insane when the auctioneer announced he was next to be auctioned. The noise grew as loud and boisterous as the World Series. Jacy's ears rang.
She stared across the field, taking the man in. He was unsettlingly handsome. He set a woman's heart to beating twice its normal rate. Judging by the wildness of the crowd, hearts were pounding. He might be older than the Bat Pack by six years, but Risk bore the chiseled maturity of a man who'd lived and learned, yet still planned to explore. Crows feet and laugh lines etched his face with character. That made him hotter than any young batter. He set the gold standard for major league baseball.
The auctioneer set the starting bid at ten grand and the bidding soared from there. Jacy let the excitement run through her. Risk's price alone would lay the foundation for the new rec center. He was one hot commodity.
Should she bid or bow out? She still had Risk's checkbook. She'd spent an enormous amount on Zen. Perhaps she should allow someone else to enjoy Risk—
"Twenty-five thousand." A woman's voice blared over a megaphone from the second row of bleachers on the west side of the stadium.
Jacy blinked at the enormity of the bid.
"Sold!" the auctioneer shouted.
Jacy's jaw worked as she watched the sway of the blonde's hips on her way to the stage. The woman looked familiar…
"Sherry Sherman, Risk's high school flame, now living in Atlanta." Stevie jarred Jacy's memory as she joined her on the bleachers. "Rumor has it she's home for the weekend." Her friend scrunched up her nose. "Put on a few pounds, hasn't she?"
About twenty, by Jacy's calculation. Jealousy scratched, drawing out her claws. Time hadn't tarnished Sherry; the woman was still bold as brass and twice as shiny in her gold sequined top and matching capris. Big hair, big smile, and even bigger boobs. Boobs that entered a room five seconds before the rest of her body.
To Jacy's dismay, those breasts now pressed Risk's chest in a welcome-home hug. Risk had the balls to smile. That smile grew even broader when Sherry whispered in his ear. An ear Jacy would be forced to cut off if he continued to listen to Sherry's secrets. With a girlish giggle, Sherry grabbed Risk's hand and pulled him from the stage. The man went willingly. Too willingly for Jacy's liking.
She stared at the spot they'd vacated. Apparently Risk was as anxious as Sherry to turn back the clock to a time when life was centered on hormones, hooters, and hard-ons.
Irritation soon replaced her disappointment. Risk was her ride home. If worse came to worst, she could always call a cab.
The pulse of the crowd kicked wildly when Aaron Grayson stepped front and center. He gave a short speech, praising Stevie Cole for all her hard work, then thanking everyone for coming out and supporting parks and recreation. He then spread his arms as if to embrace the stadium. "What am I worth?"
The townspeople rewarded him with high bids.
Jacy heard Stevie's own voice soar through the megaphone, "Twenty thousand."
If her friend were to win, she'd be raiding her savings to pay for the evening. To Jacy's surprise, the crowd stilled, as if hesitant to raise the bid. Everyone in Frostproof knew Stevie adored Aaron. In the townspeople's eyes, their hometown boy was darn slow to walk her down the aisle.
In unison, the people of Frostproof handed Stevie a gift. No one would outbid her. She had Aaron all to herself. Jacy sent a silent prayer of thanks. The heart of a small town beat for its own.
"Thirty thousand." The bid came from the stage, from directly behind Aaron. The voice was low and deep, almost smoky. Yet utterly feminine. Jacy craned her neck to get a look at the woman. Beneath the floodlights, her hair glistened blue-black, long and shiny. She moved with a fluid grace, her black dress as slinky as her body. She looked rich. Pampered. And very into Aaron Grayson.
Her cousin's expression shifted from startled to ecstatic as he eased the woman close and took her hand. Clearing his throat, he spoke into the mike. "Your attention, please. In honor of this charity event, I'd like to make an announcement. A secret I've been keeping until after the World Series when I could claim a life away from baseball."
Jacy froze alongside Stevie. Life away front baseball could only mean—
"I'm engaged." Aaron didn't miss a beat. "Let me introduce Natalie Llewellyn. My fiancee."
The ripple of applause came from the out-of-towners. Anyone living in Frostproof sat rigidly still, unsure how to react. One minute Stevie Cole had appeared to win Aaron's favor, the next, he'd announced a fiancee. The town sat on the edge of the fence, uncertain which way to lean.
Jacy leaned into Stevie and lent Stevie her strength and support as her mind raced. How had she been caught so unaware?
However secret, someone had to have known about Aaron's engagement long before tonight. Rumors always circled the major league, some true, some false. Surely the Bat Pack, Zen Driscoll, or Risk Kincaid had heard the gossip. Yet no one had spoken up and saved her friend from learning the truth before God and a packed football stadium.
Had Stevie known Aaron's intent, she could have braced herself against the announcement. She wouldn't be standing there now, gripping the railing, white-knuckled and pale. And totally shocked.
Once the auction was concluded, the crowd dispersed. It had been an evening to remember. Only Jacy, Stevie, and the cleanup crew remained. The women sat high on the bleachers, shoulders pressed together, commiserating, until the lights on the field dimmed and the crew picked up the last paper cup and discarded program.
"Go home, Jacy," Stevie finally said.
"Come home with me," Jacy pleaded. "I've got chocolate. Lots of chocolate. We'll talk some more."
Stevie shook her head, her eyes sad. "All's said and done. There's nothing more to discuss."
They hugged then, two lifelong friends, as close as sisters. Responsible for writing a check for the use of the football field, Stevie soon left Jacy to seek out the groundskeeper.
After several minutes, Jacy followed. Standing alone, she looked about the parking lot. It was dark and empty, with no sign of Risk Kincaid. He hadn't returned for her. She was minus a ride home.
Ballet slippers and a ten-mile hike didn't quite mesh. She'd wear a hole in the bottom of her footwear. She needed to call a cab. Or search out Stevie.