That Touch of Pink. Teresa Southwick

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      Is your chance to find the right one for that “honey do” list.

      Could you use a weekend warrior? Ex-army ranger Riley Dixon is the guy for you. He’s donating a survival weekend guaranteed to get your heart rate up.

      What about that home repair you’ve been putting off? Dashing Des O’Donnell, former Charity City High football hero, now owner and president of his own construction company, is offering a repair of your choice.

      Personal security issues? Defend your honor? Savvy Sam Brimstone, recently of the LAPD and a hotshot detective, is your man.

      These are just a sampling of the jaw-dropping guys available to the highest bidder. Ladies, don’t miss the chance to buy a guy—no strings attached.

      Cash, Check, Credit and Debit cards gratefully accepted by the Charity City Philanthropic Foundation.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Prologue

      Buy-a-Guy: Semiannual Charity City Auction

      Abby Walsh needed a man and she was here to buy the one she wanted.

      Many towns held bachelor auctions to raise money. Not hers. Charity City was more creative with its semiannual events. The women’s—Sell-A-Belle—was held in the spring. Tonight was the men’s turn and bachelorhood wasn’t a prerequisite, which was just peachy with Abby. Most of the guys were donating their time and skills to be auctioned because they’d received grants from the town for their businesses or projects. Payback in volunteer form was expected.

      The specifics of the sale had been listed ahead of time on the town’s Web site and Abby was waiting for the guy who’d donated a survival weekend. Her daughter had recently become involved with a group promoting girls’ outdoor activities. Badges were involved and apparently came under the heading “life and death” for her six-year-old. Abby knew if she were in charge of camping, it would be life and death for real. So the auction was the answer to her problem. She could give back to the town and get the perfect guy—for the weekend. She had no illusions about a perfect guy for herself.

      She’d rather be alone than need a man for anything. Once had been more than enough.

      Normally she attended the annual auctions with her two best girlfriends. Molly Preston was on her right, but Jamie Gibson couldn’t make it tonight. Her parents, Louise and Roy Gibson, had come instead.

      The Charity City Community Center was the only place in town large enough to house the event, and rows of folding chairs filled the expanse of floor space. On the stage, Mayor Baxter Wentworth was playing auctioneer. Tall, distinguished and gray-haired, he was a descendant of the town’s founding family who had initiated the first auction. He took the responsibility of carrying on this charitable tradition very seriously.

      “This is Charity City, folks,” he said. “We put our money where our mouth is. I don’t have to tell you this is the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Buy-A-Guy auction.”

      “No, you’ve been reminding us of that for weeks,” someone called out.

      The mayor laughed along with the rest of the audience. “Okay. I get the point. But you all know the foundation channels money to all of Charity City’s worthy causes, and those funds have to come from somewhere. We’re almost finished for tonight and I want to make this the most successful event ever.”

      After the applause died down, he said, “Okay. We’ve got three volunteers left. First is a home repair of your choice donated by Des O’Donnell of O’Donnell Construction.”

      Abby felt an elbow in her ribs and looked at Molly. “What?”

      “Bid on that for me.”

      “Why can’t you do it yourself?”

      “Don’t ask. Just trust me on this. No one can know I’m the one who bought Des.” When Abby hesitated, Molly added, “Who would think twice about a single woman buying a home repair?”

      “You’re a single woman.”

      Cinnamon-colored eyes assumed a decidedly puppy dog expression. “Yeah. But you’re divorced. By definition, that means once upon a time you grew accustomed to a man around the house.”

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