A Bid For Love

Perhaps she'd find it endearing. The grey-blue eyes staring back at him didn't seem too convinced of it. He could only hope she'd find his tall, lean form worthy of the price she'd paid.
    Forget butterflies; that thought set a regiment of great big luna moths whirling about his stomach. The highest bid in the history of the charity foundation! But why continue to keep herself anonymous? Was she...old? Portly? Ugly? All of the above? And was he actually so shallow it really mattered? He shoved such thoughts away. Even if she were...less than physically appealing, it was still Italy and she still valued him and they could certainly have an enjoyable weekend as friends. God knew most of his dates ended up so anyway.
    If only he knew more! So little conversation, via email under a completely unhelpful screen name, but so...intriguing. I'll be wearing a yellow rose just for you. Yes, she knew of his love for roses and praised it, saying it showed him to be a caring, nurturing man. Lord, those few notes had been full of little comments like that, all aimed at making him feel unbelievably wanted, understood, and still...masculine. All right. Even if she was older and less than beautiful, he was interested.
    The clean lines and white marble felt serene, comforting...and it had been a very long time since anything had made him feel so, especially combined with the prospect of a new potential relationship. He'd found dating to cause far more tension headaches than work. But not this weekend. He turned his key in the brass doorknob and decided that, no matter how things worked out, he'd not go home less relaxed than he'd arrived.
    Ah, the room proved as attractive as the lobby and hall. Just as the brochure depicted. All clean lines and European elegance. His eyes widened. The curtains around the bed were drawn on one side. She was there already then. Waiting for him? His breathing sped a bit. Waiting in bed?
    A frown caught his lips, and a sudden understanding of Noah's comment about feeling like a piece of meat knotted a ball in his gut. Surely... Then again, he supposed he hadn't conveyed a cultural experience in his video. But the emails... His secret admirer had seemed so sincere about wanting to get to know him better, to enjoy his company in this lovely setting. Could he have read her so wrong?
    He clenched his hand for a moment to quell any hint of a tremble and reached for the curtain. "Excuse me. I forgot the desk clerk told me you were already here, or I'd have knocked. After all, I-- Jamison!"
    Coherent thought fled before boiling lava. Anger greater than any he'd ever known surged up. No! Even his thoughtless colleague couldn't be this cruel. Unless...Poppy. Poppy--his ex--and one of her numerous cohorts. How many were involved in this horrendous ploy to make him a fool? Again.
    Scott Jamison glanced up and set his book aside. "Wondered when you'd get in." Blue eyes held no twinkle, just wary concern. "I'm thinking you might want a belt before I explain this."
    "Oh, I want a belt. I want to belt you!" Asher drew back a fist and plunged it straight for Scott's face. "I'm going to kill you." He wanted to. He hadn't felt this murderous since an intelligence leak nearly got him killed.
    But Scott's reflexes were Bureau-trained as well, so the punch landed in the pile of pillows that had cradled the other man's back. A back, and front, covered in white jersey knit with a large yellow rose plastered across the chest. "Now just hold, up, Ash. It's not what it looks like; it's not a prank--"
    Asher swung again, a string of curses he didn't even need to think about falling from his lips.
    Scott dodged again. "Hey! That's impressive! I didn't even know you knew most of those words." He held his hands wide, not offering to fight back. "Now, if you'd just take the time to have that drink, you can call me that again and anything else you want, if you'll just give me time to explain."
    "Explain? Explain how you love making a fool out of me? How it's so easy to make me the butt of the whole damn building's continuing jokes? I've had enough!" This time Asher swung lower, knuckles burying themselves in the rose-emblazoned T-shirt.
    Scott's eyes widened, disbelief and a hurt that had nothing to do with physical evident there for a split second before they squeezed tightly closed, boyish face transformed by intense pain. "Oh!" A tiny groan squeezed past clenched teeth as the other agent sank to his knees, arms wrapped around his