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for?”
    Darlene gave her a distracted glance. “What?”
    â€œHow much are these guys going for?” Amy repeated impatiently.
    â€œSo…someone caught your eye.” Darlene glanced back at the stage and gave Amy a sly smile. “I can’t say I blame you. He’s a hunk. Even if he wasn’t a prosecuting attorney, my defenses would crumble with him in five seconds flat.”
    The bidding had already started, and Amy needed information—fast. In the interest of time she restrained the impulse to throttle Darlene. “It’s for a good cause,” she replied with a noncommittal shrug.
    Darlene wasn’t buying. “Yeah, right.”
    Amy gave up the pretense of disinterest. “So how much?” she repeated urgently.
    â€œThe last guy went for three-fifty.”
    Amy cringed and glanced back toward the stage. Was it worth the gamble? Cal Richards didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would bend. But even if she got one lead, one piece of information that gave her an edge, it would be worth the money. It was almost like an investment in her career, she rationalized.
    Amy glanced around. Women were holding up numbers and calling out their bids. She turned back to her table, spotted the large number in the center and reached for it as the bid rose to three hundred.
    She waited until the bidding slowed at four-twenty-five.
    â€œOkay, ladies, is that it? Any more bidders? No? All right, then…” Candace raised her gavel. “Going…going…”
    Amy took a deep breath, turned her head slightly away just in case Cal Richards could see past theglare of the spotlight, and held up her number. “Four-fifty.”
    There was a momentary hush, and her heart thumped painfully against her rib cage.
    â€œFour-seventy-five,” someone countered.
    Amy gulped. “Five hundred.”
    A murmur swept the room.
    â€œNow, ladies, that’s what I call a bid!” Candace said approvingly. “Do I hear five and a quarter?”
    Amy stopped breathing. Five hundred was about her limit, especially when the odds of hitting the jackpot were about on a par with winning the lottery.
    â€œNo? All right, Bachelor #5 is going, going, gone, to table thirty-two and one very lucky lady.”
    As enthusiastic applause swept the room and her table mates congratulated her, Amy hoped Candace was right. Because she could use a little luck about now.
    Â 
    â€œCal, there’s a woman on the phone who says she won you in an auction. Is she a nut, or is there something you haven’t told me?”
    Cal closed his eyes and felt the beginning of a headache prick at his temples. He hadn’t mentioned the auction to anyone in his office, especially not Cynthia. She was a great friend and legal assistant, but ever since she’d walked down the aisle a year ago, she’d made it her personal goal in life to watch him do the same. And she was nothing if not tenacious. “She’s not a nut, Cynthia, and yes, there’s something I haven’t told you.”
    As the silence lengthened, he could feel her growing impatience over the line.
    â€œSo are you going to come clean of your own free will or do I have to drag it out of you?” she finally demanded.
    A bemused smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. “Have you ever thought about going into police work, Cyn? You’d be great at the third degree.”
    â€œHah-hah. Spill it, Richards.”
    He sighed. There was no way around it. He and Cynthia had been co-workers and friends a long time, and she wouldn’t rest until she had the whole story. “I agreed to be one of the bachelors auctioned off at a charity dinner last Friday. A good chunk of the money goes to Saint Vincent’s, so I couldn’t say no.”
    â€œNo kidding! Mr. Particular, who finds fault with everyone I suggest as a potential date, is actually going to go out with some strange