“We're expecting to exceed our half-million-dollar target,” I say confidently. “The generosity of our supporters never ceases to amaze me.”
As the reporter moves on, I feel a warm hand on my lower back. Cole appears beside me, having somehow navigated through the crowd without drawing attention.
“There's a quiet alcove behind the auction display,” he murmurs near my ear. “Meet me there in five minutes.”
I shouldn't. I'm working.
Except, five minutes later, I’m slipping away from the crowd, and I find Cole in a small alcove, partially hidden by a massive floral arrangement. The space is intimate, dimly lit, and removed from the main reception.
“You're supposed to be charming donors,” I whisper as he pulls me close.
“I needed a moment with you.” His hands frame my face. “You’re amazing. You make all this seem so effortless.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight. “It's not effortless. I'm terrified I'll forget something critical.”
“You won't. You're brilliant at this.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I'm so proud of you. So proud to know you, to be with you.”
He leans down to kiss me.
His hand slides down to rest on my hip, his thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of my dress. The intimate touch sends heat spiraling through me despite my nerves.
As we prepare to slip out of our hiding place, I catch a glimpse of movement near the floral displays. A photographer with a professional camera is positioned about twenty feet away, but his lens appears to be focused on the elaborate orchid arrangements, not on us.
Still, my heart jumps. “There's a photographer,” I whisper urgently.
Cole glances over casually. “He's shooting the flowers. We're fine.” His hand gives my hip one final, possessive squeeze before we step apart.
The auction itself is a triumph. Bidding is fierce and competitive, with prices climbing far beyond our projections. The dinner with the Michelin-starred chef goes for fifteen thousand dollars. The Tuscany trip fetches twenty-two thousand.
Cole takes the stage for the final item. A behind-the-scenes experience with the Renegades, including practice access and a private dinner with the team. His charm and humor have the crowd eating out of his hand, and the item sells for thirty thousand dollars.
When the final gavel falls, we've raised $687,000 for the children's hospital.
The crowd erupts in applause, and tears prick my eyes. We did it. We exceeded every expectation, every goal.
As guests begin to filter out, thanking me and my team, Cole finds me near the registration table.
“Six hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars,” I say, still in disbelief.
“You're incredible,” he says simply.
The cleanup and breakdown take another two hours, but finally, it's just my exhausted team and me, reviewing the evening's successes in the empty ballroom.
“Go home,” I tell them. “Sleep until noon. You've earned it.”
Cole is waiting for me by the exit, having changed out of his tuxedo into dark jeans and a button-down shirt.
“Ready to go home?” he asks.
“More than ready.”
Back at his apartment, I kick off my heels the moment we're through the door and sink onto the couch with a sigh.
“Don't move,” Cole says. “I'm getting champagne. We're celebrating properly.”
He returns with a bottle of Dom Pérignon and two glasses. “To Harper Hayes,” he says, pouring the champagne. “Who just pulled off the event of the year.”
“To my team,” I counter. “And to you, for being the perfect host.”
