A Man for All Seasons. HEATHER MACALLISTER

      “I haven’t had time.” She indicated the arrangement of colorful exotic blooms that she’d set on a file cabinet. “Your girlfriend sent me flowers.”

      Ty smiled. “She’s great like that.” Axelle’s impulsive generosity was one of the things that attracted him to her. It was also how she’d ended up in charge of the Midtown Business Mentors Charity Auction this Friday. And how he’d been corralled into helping. And how Marlie had ended up doing a website for them. It was difficult to say no to Axelle.

      “I broke out my expensive wedding stationery and wrote her a thank-you note for the ‘day brightener.’” Marlie looked at him. “I wonder where she got the idea that I needed a ‘day brightener?’”

      “You mind that I told her about your jerk of a fiancé?” he asked. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

      “I’m not ashamed, but it was almost three years ago,” Marlie said. “I’m more embarrassed about walking in on you last night and seeing Axelle half-naked.”

      “You said your eyes were closed.”

      “They were. After I saw you both.”

      Ty drew a long breath. “I should have sent her flowers.”

      “You’re in luck,” Marlie said. “As it happens, I’ve got some right here.”

      “I’m not going to take your flowers.”

      “Why not? I feel I owe her.”

      “She’d rather have you do a little extra on the auction website.”

      “It would be cheaper to send her flowers.” Marlie nodded toward the computer screen. “They’ve had twice as many donations as Axelle anticipated. Each one means I have to put up a picture and a description and a link to the company or person who donated it,” she told him. “I’m setting the whole thing up so I can stream the auction and take online bids Friday night. It’s taking a little more time than I’d estimated.”

      Ty came over to look at the screen. “It’s for a good ca—what the heck is that?”

      “That,” Marlie said, “is why I don’t mind the extra time.”

      A shirtless man wearing suspenders and a fireman’s hat grinned at him from the monitor. “What’s he donating?”

      “A date,” Marlie answered.

      “Did he have to look like he was posing for a calendar?”

      “Actually, he did. You’re looking at Mr. May.” She smiled. “And I’m sure the lucky winner hopes he will.”

      Ty raised his eyebrows.

      Marlie typed a caption to the picture and then read it aloud. “Oh, yeah. I’d like to see the partridge in his pear tree.”

      “Uh, Marlie?”

      “Hmm?” The picture on the screen changed and another man appeared. This one was wearing more clothes, but his smile promised he wouldn’t be wearing them long. Ty had a passing acquaintance with that smile and a guy shouldn’t ever be photographed smiling that smile.

      “And you can coo in my ear anytime.” Marlie typed “Two Turtle Doves.”

      “What are you doing?”

      “This is the 12 Men of Christmas Dating Extravaganza.”

      “Is it legal?”

      Marlie laughed. “Axelle found twelve men to agree to take the winners or winner on a date inspired by verses from ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ song.” She typed as she spoke.

      “Axelle didn’t ask me,” Ty said, wondering how Axelle knew the men.

      “Axelle doesn’t want to share you,” Marlie told him.

      “Or she doesn’t think anyone would pay to go out with me.”

      “More likely, she’s afraid you’ll embarrass the other guys by starting a bidding war.”

      Ty liked the sound of that. It could happen. He envisioned hordes of women emptying their bank accounts and shouting bids faster than the auctioneer could keep up.

      And then he noticed Marlie looking at him with her all-seeing gaze. He gestured with his chin toward the computer screen. “How high does Axelle think women will bid to go out with these men?”

      “I have no idea,” Marlie told him. “But there’s a minimum bid of six hundred dollars.”

      “Fifty bucks a date? What a deal. You can barely go to the movies and get popcorn, drinks and a pack of Junior Mints for fifty bucks.”

      “I don’t fix the starting bids. I just put up the auction items. But I think the low minimum is because this is offered as an all or nothing package,” Marlie explained. “Axelle said some of the guys were afraid no one would bid on them. This was the only way they’d agree to participate. She’s encouraging women to form buying cartels and split up the guys among them.”

      He nodded. “In case anyone is too shy to bid by herself. Good idea. So show me the men’s package.”

      Marlie slowly turned her head and looked up at him.

      “I meant,” Ty said, feeling irritated, “are there women for sale?”

      “You meant that, did you?”

      “Is there a women’s version of the dating dozen?” he asked heavily as Marlie continued typing, visibly fighting a grin.

      “No—ooolala, Mr. Three French Hens. I wonder if French is his specialty.”

      Ty looked at the screen. “That’s Axelle’s brother!”

      “So that’s Paul.” Marlie propped her chin on her elbow as she zoomed in. “Mmm.” She traced his lips with the cursor and then zoomed in even more until just his mouth and square chin with the cleft filled the screen.

      How did he shave that thing, anyway? Ty wondered. Judging by the dreamy expression on Marlie’s face, that was not what she was wondering. Sighing, she zoomed out. “I’m glad Axelle has no problem sharing him.”

      Ty looked at her in concern. Now that he’d helped her get over Eric, she wasn’t going to go wild, was she? The idea was to find an area between nun and nymphomaniac.

      The next photo popped up. “Four calling birds. Call me anytime.” Her voice dropped to a sexy purr.

      “You do know it’s actually ‘colly’ birds.” Ty sounded uptight and condescending. He always sounded uptight and condescending when he was losing control of a situation. There is nothing here to control, he told himself.

      “Why, Tyler.” Marlie looked up at him and mercifully away from the lumberjack Jo in his unbuttoned flannel shirt. “I do know that, but I’m amazed that you do.”

      “I took chorus for my Fine Arts credit in college,” he said, condescendingly. Stop that.

      Mr. Five Gold Rings appeared. “A gymnast?” The photo had been taken during a competition. The man’s arm muscles bulged as he suspended himself by the ring apparatus.

      “Look at that form,” Marlie said with admiration. “And gymnasts are so flexible.”

      Ty waited. “Aren’t you going to say ‘he can run rings around me’ or something like that?”

      “I was thinking that if he’s that good with two rings, he’ll be spectacular with five. That’s golden.”

      “What does that even mean?”

      “Mmm.” Marlie smiled a little smile as she typed.

      Ty felt out of his depth, a totally foreign feeling. Depth like this was supposed to be his specialty.

      “This next