To the Highest Bidder Read online

  TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER

  Clare Connelly

  All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.

  All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.

  The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.

  First published 2015

  (c) Clare Connelly

  Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com/milicanistoran

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  http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk

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  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’m so sorry to bother you.”

  Carter Mann-Hughes paused mid-conversation and turned in the direction of the insistent voice. He had to adjust his view several notches lower to fix the woman with a direct stare, for she stood not much taller than five feet. The sight of her drove all thoughts of the difficult negotiations from his mind.

  “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, her smile completely changing her expression. She was sultry temptress one minute; sexy innocent the next. “I just… mine just died.” She held her phone up between two manicured fingers, her expressive face flashing from apologetic smile to frustrated grimace in the blink of an eye. “And I really have to call someone. Would you mind…?” Her question hung in the air between them, as Carter Mann-Hughes grappled with the unusual request.

  “I am on my phone.” He pointed out logically, his brows knitted together in an expression most people found intimidating. After all, he was negotiating the pay rise of a major player in the prime time news market. As CEO of Silverlight, he rarely muddied his hands with such work, but the talent in question was a tough nut to crack.

  “Yes.” Jane was starting to regret approaching the seriously gorgeous man. Only, from the back, he hadn’t seemed so overwhelmingly attractive. Sure, he was basically six feet of muscle, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist; fair hair that was combed back from his angular face. But when he had turned to face her, and she’d seen his almond shaped blue eyes, straight nose, and cheekbones that looked carved from granite, she’d felt her heart accelerate almost painfully in her chest. His tan was like caramel on his skin, and boasted of a life spent outdoors. His teeth were even and white, his mouth somehow amused even though it seemed expressionless. His jawline was square, his chin dimpled, and the lower half of his face was covered in designer stubble.

  “And you interrupted. So that you could borrow my phone? Which I’m speaking on?”

  Her cheeks flushed prettily beneath her golden skin. His curiosity amplified. Her dress was low cut and tight, her lips painted a scarlet red. And yet there was a vulnerability to her that he was intrigued by. Her voice was a husky whisper. “I see now how that could seem a little rude.” She bit down on her lip in a way Carter found distracting. “It’s sort of an emergency.”

  He strove to hide his grin, but the corner of his lip twitched anyway. “How can something be ‘sort of’ an emergency? Either it is, or it isn’t.”

  “Right.” She fumbled her hands in front of her, almost dropping her iPhone. He reached for it with a grunt of annoyance, surprising Jane into letting it go completely. His fingers caught it mid-air.

  “I’ll have to call you back.” He disconnected his own call without waiting for a response. The news anchor would be furious, but Carter found in difficult to care. “Here. I hope you sort out your emergency.”

  She reached out a hand and put it on his forearm without thinking. It was a spontaneous gesture of gratitude but the tactile contact sent a shiver along her spine. She dropped her fingers almost instantly. “Thank you. I’m really grateful.”

  “You’re a guest at the party?” He asked, with a nod towards the thronging group beyond the glass doors.

  Jane followed his gaze. Some of Manhattan’s most elite inhabitants were milling in their finest clothes, a swarm of perfume, jewellery and couture. “Uh huh.”

  Carter took a moment to casually drag his eyes over the woman, and felt himself stir. Hell. She wasn’t his type at all. Leggy blondes were his lover du jour, not curvy, dark haired vixens. And yet her pouty, red lips and intense eyes were utterly captivating. That was before he even contemplated her made-for-bed body.

  His voice conveyed a notch of his interest. “Come and find me when you’re done.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  She watched him stroll back towards the glass pool house that housed the elegant affair. His walk was loaded with power; he radiated a firm confidence with each movement. Men like him were pure trouble. She usually gave them a wide berth. But this time, she didn’t want to. For once in her life, she was tempted to do something for herself. To throw caution to the wind and follow after him; to ask his name.

  But she couldn’t. She was working, and her job was too important to jeopardise, all because of a handsome stranger who would probably turn out to be a bastard anyway. She shook her head and turned her attention to the phone.

  It took a moment to connect. “Anita, it’s me. I’m sorry I lost you. My battery died. I just wanted to make sure you got your dinner?”

  “Yes, Jane.”

  Jane could just picture the way her sister would be rolling her eyes.

  “I know you don’t like me to mother you,” Jane said defensively. “But I wanted to be sure. I didn’t have time to write a note.”

  “Believe it or not, it’s not rocket science for me to check the fridge for dinner. You do leave it there for me any night you’re not around, you know.”

  Jane laughed. “Okay, Okay.”

  “How’s work?”

  Jane toyed with the strap of her cocktail dress. She hated lying to her sister, but if Anita knew what Jane actually did for an income, she would probably do something stupid. Like insist on dropping out of her expensive school. And there was no way on Earth Jane would let her younger sister sacrifice her dreams. She had too much potential. “Busy tonight. And school?”

  “Fine.”

  “Is Jenna there?”

  “Yes. She’s standing in the kitchen, rolling her eyes at you too. Even if I didn’t check the fridge, you know she would have, right?”

  Jane often felt stupid around her sister. It was not a new experience for her. She bit down on her lip, fighting the wave of hurt that threatened to make her frown. After all, Anita was a teenager, and despite her extraordinary intelligence, she still fell into some of the pitfalls of normal teenager behaviour.

  “Good.” She cleared her throat, and tried to sound more like her usual self. “I should get back to work now. I just wanted to check in.”

  “Well, I’m fine. Thanks for dinner. And for everything. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Night, sis.”

  Jane disconnected the call with a small sigh. One day, she’d probably be proud of the way she had single-handedly supported her sister through a prestigious school, but sometimes, it felt like she barely got to see her. It was a sacrifice that needed to be made though. They’d have years to spend over sisterly lunches. For now, survival was all that mattered.

  She slipped the phone in her handbag and lifted her gaze to the swarming guests. She didn’t even know the name of the man whose phone she had borrowed, and if she didn’t hurry, her client would be furious with her for taking
so long.

  She increased her tempo, walking with a satisfying clickety-click towards the enormous glass doors. At just over five feet tall, she wore heels often enough to feel supremely confident in them. Beyond the terrace, the sun was setting over Manhattan, and the sky was streaked with orange and pink, reminding her of a fruit sherbet.

  As she entered the high-end hotel restaurant, the strains of the string quartet hit her ears, and she instinctively smiled. Jane knew nothing about classical music, except that she liked to listen to it. It made her feel glamorous and at peace. She paused just inside the door, her dark eyes scanning the crowded room.

  The first event like this she’d attended, she’d been completely out of her depth. She’d never seen so much wearable money. Women in dresses that cost more than she could dream of earning; jewels that were so exorbitant they looked fake. Only she knew they weren’t. These women had Harry Winston and Oscar de La Renta on their speed dials. The men were almost all the same. Bankers. Old money. They were all cut from the same mould. Some were tall, some were short, but they all wore a cloak of entitlement that was borne of extreme wealth.

  And then… there was Him.

  The man whose phone she had borrowed loomed inches above the crowd. No mould would have been used to cast his form. She’d realised he was tall, but seeing him compared to the other men in the room showed just how completely his stature dominated. He was locked in conversation, and his face was fascinatingly intense as he concentrated on what another man was saying.

  “Where have you been?” Carter “Hank” Mann-Hughes appeared at her elbow, his handsome, weathered face masking an obvious temper.

  “I’m so sorry, Hank,” she whispered, keeping her smile in place. With true remorse, she forced her eyes to shift from the handsome stranger and back to her client. “I had to make an urgent call. I’m back now.”

  He put a hand in the small of her back and propelled her further into the crowd. “I’m not paying your agency for you to disappear. I want you glued to my side. Got it?”

  Jane compressed her lips in an effort to hide her annoyance. This gig was earning her more than the last three combined. She tucked her hand in the crook of Hank’s arm, obediently, and simpered up at him.

  “I understand, sir.”

  His eyes ran over her face thoughtfully. “You really are very pretty.”

  She could have laughed at the heavy-handed compliment. “Thank you.”

  “I hate birthday parties,” he grumbled.

  “This is your birthday party,” she responded with a raise of her brows. Though secretly, she felt exactly the same. Her own birthday was looming and she simply wanted to get past it and carry on with the year. “And it’s loaded with interesting people. What’s to hate?”

  “Getting old,” he replied with a glum shrug of his shoulders.

  Her laugh was practiced, but she suspected he didn’t realise that. She was used to the vanity of men like Hank. Rich, handsome at one time in their lives, and somewhat childish in how they expected the world to work. Managing him was like handling a recalcitrant toddler.

  “Well, you have me for the night. What would you like to do?”

  His eyes dropped to the generous swell of her cleavage, that was displayed in the low cut cocktail dress. She laughed again. This time, it was genuine.

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s not that kind of agency.”

  He winked at her. “An old man can dream, can’t he?”

  He could have seemed sleazy, but there was such a pathetic vulnerability to him that she pitied him instead. “Come on. I’m a great dancer. Let’s go for a spin.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder and nodded. “Good.”

  “Oh!” She exclaimed in surprise, as the man she’d borrowed the phone from intercepted them.

  “Hank,” he said, with a curt twist of his lips. But his eyes, his stunning, blue eyes, were locked on Jane’s face. There was accusation in them, and sardonic derision. It burned Jane. Her skin was energised and tingling.

  The older man responded with an equally unforthcoming grunt.

  “You know each other?” Jane asked, surprised by how breathy her voice sounded. “Of course you do. You’re at Hank’s party.” She winced. “I should have said, how do you two know each other?”

  The phrasing of her question was hesitant and uncertain, earning a quizzical look from her saviour.

  “You’re here with him?” He demanded, nodding towards her client.

  “Yes.” It had been a last minute booking; her agency had switched her from a different job, as they needed to send their best escort.

  “You’re here with my father?”

  “Your father?” She looked from one to the other, not able to easily discern a commonality in appearance. “I guess I am.” She smiled at her client, hoping that she was hiding how distracted she was by his son. “Thank you for the loan of your phone.” She reached into her purse and pulled it out, handing it to him without meeting his eyes.

  Hank’s lips were pale. “This is my son, Carter Mann-Hughes.”

  The younger man didn’t even acknowledge that his father had spoken. He kept his eyes locked to Jane’s face. “I trust your emergency was solved?”

  “Yes,” she nodded, her throat aching. “Not so much of an emergency after all.”

  He slipped the phone into his top pocket.

  “Where’s Renata?” Hank asked, referring to his son Carter’s supermodel girlfriend.

  “Probably knee deep in vodka,” he said with a shrug.

  The animosity between the two of them was palpable. Jane looked from one to the other before remembering that she was there to work. “We were just going to dance. It was nice to meet you, Carter.” She turned her back too swiftly to see the warning determination in his eyes.

  The band switched to a different song, slower in tempo, and when Hank held her close, she didn’t object. The other couples were in a similar posture.

  Working as an escort was a difficult job. She walked a very fine line of being friendly and kind, without wanting to give her clients the impression that she was interested in anything other than the legitimate assignment. “You don’t seem close to your son,” she observed after a few moments.

  “No.”

  “You don’t want to talk about it?”

  “I didn’t hire you to talk,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Think of me as cheap therapy.”

  “Cheap?” He laughed. “Your agency charges a fortune for your services.”

  “Okay. Just think of me as therapy.”

  He laughed again, but still didn’t respond to her question.

  “All right, tell me this instead. Why did you need to bring me tonight?”

  “My date fell through at the last minute. I didn’t want to come alone.” His break up had been as unexpected as it was bitter. Knowing that his son had never approved of his thirty something girlfriend, Hank was reluctant to wear his heartbreak on his sleeve. Arriving with someone younger and hotter seemed a far better alternative.

  She nodded. “I can understand that. It is your birthday, after all.”

  “What about you? Is being an expensive call girl everything you dreamed of as a child?”

  She stiffened her spine. “That’s unkind. I’m not a call girl; I’m an escort.” She shrugged. “And it pays the bills.” Bills that were her responsibility to pay, to keep a roof over her sister’s head, as well as her own.

  “I imagine it must, with what your agency charges you out at.”

  “Are you complaining?” She asked, lifting one perfectly shaped brow.

  He shook his head. “Not at all. You’re just the kind of woman I needed tonight. Having you here will be infuriating to my exes. Not to mention my oldest son.”

  “Oh? How so?” She asked, hating the way her pulse began to hammer against her skin. Out of nowhere, she pictured his face. Strong, handsome, captivating.

  “I’m sure you’ve got a lot else
going for you, but frankly, you’re stunning. Sex on legs. Big tits, nice ass, hair that makes me want to run my fingers through it. You look like someone who’d keep me up all night, if you know what I mean. And even though your dress probably cost a small fortune, there’s something… a bit slutty about you. Probably the cleavage.”

  Her stomach churned painfully but not by a blink of her long, curled eyelashes did she so much as visibly react. After all, she’d dealt with this kind of thing before. The line between professional escort and prostitute was one many people didn’t appreciate. But Jane sure did. She would never sleep with a man for money. It was one of the reasons she’d felt so comfortable signing up when she’d been approached. Her contract explicitly stated that sexual relationships with customers would not be tolerated.

  “So making your exes jealous is the point of having me here?”

  “Not the point, no. But it’s certainly a silver lining.”

  His smile was dripping with lascivious expectation. She unwittingly cast a furtive glance at her wristwatch, wishing the evening were already over. She was booked until midnight though, and that was still several hours away.

  “And your son?”

  “An arrogant prick.”

  She couldn’t help it. Her steps missed a beat. She quickly collected herself.

  “Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say that about your own … flesh and blood.”

  He bared his even white teeth in a wolf like grin. “It’s the truth. I’ve always believed in honesty.”

  “Excuse me, Mr Mann-Hughes.” A deferential bow from a man in a tuxedo caused them to pause mid-spin.

  “What is it?” He hissed impatiently, releasing Jane with obvious disappointment.

  “An urgent call from the Philadelphia office. They need your approval for something. It’s important.”

  He scowled with all his might. “Fine. Wait here.”

  The crowd parted for him as he made his way through it, like a beetle being pulled into a web. She shook her head and made a show of looking comfortably at ease.

  Yes, the first party she’d attended like this had made her panic. How could she ever fit in with these wealthy, glamorous socialites? Her finances were stretched beyond belief and she came from a very working class background. If she hadn’t been desperate to support her sister, she would never have dreamed of putting herself in such a position. But desperation had given her a backbone of steel.