Hidden Pleasures. Brenda Jackson

Hidden Pleasures - Brenda Jackson


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truly appreciate it at the time.

      The last thing he wanted was to be seen, in case she remembered him, more specifically his lack of manners. And he knew firsthand that some women had long memories. They also were driven to get even. Galen wasn’t up for that today. To be honest, he was distracted. He had a project in his garage that needed his absolute attention, so technically he had no business being here. But he had to bid on that ’69 Chevelle.

      The Chevelle.

      He glanced at his watch and moaned. The bidding had already begun and more than likely the entry doors had been closed. He had missed out on the opportunity to own the car he’d always wanted because of his attention to this woman. Now he’d be forced to do an off-bid for the car, which meant if others were interested, the bidding war could go on forever. He pulled in a disgusted breath. They said payback was a bitch. Was losing out on that Chevelle his payback for the grief he’d caused the woman six months ago? He wasn’t ready to accept his punishment.

      He wasn’t ready to do anything but find out who she was and why their paths had crossed yet again. Not that he was complaining. He listened more closely to their conversation to try to find out as much as he could about her.

      There was a reason he was drawn to her. A reason why such a cool, calm and reserved sort of guy like himself would love to cross the floor, interrupt their conversation and pull her into his arms and kiss her. To be quite honest, he wanted to do more than just kiss her.

      He figured he was going through some sort of hormonal meltdown. Over the years he’d learned to deal with an overabundance of testosterone. But he was definitely having trouble doing so today.

      After finding out who she was, he might decide to come out of hiding and make a move. They were not in New York, squabbling over a cab. She was in Phoenix, the Steele neck of the woods, and for her that could be a good thing or a bad thing.

      Brittany couldn’t help but smile as she stared at Nikki. It had been over twelve years since they’d seen each other. At fourteen they had been the best of friends and had remained that way until right before their sixteenth birthdays when Nikki’s father, who’d been in the navy, had received orders to move his family from the Tampa Bay area to San Diego.

      They had tried staying in touch, but in Brittany’s junior year of high school, when Mrs. Dugan got sick, Brittany had been sent to another foster home. During that first year with the Surratts, she had been too busy getting adjusted to her new family and new school to stay in contact.

      “You look the same,” she couldn’t help but say to Nikki. She still had her curly black hair and her energetic chocolate-brown eyes. She truly hadn’t aged at all.

      “And so do you,” Nikki replied on a laugh. “Are we really twenty-eight already?”

      Brittany chuckled. “Afraid so. So what are you doing in Phoenix?”

      “I live here now. After I graduated from high school in San Diego I followed a group of friends to the university here. I got a job with a photography firm after I graduated and I’ve been here since.”

      “How are your parents?”

      “They’re fine and still living in San Diego. Dad’s retired now and driving Mom nuts. My brother Paul got married and has two kids, so the folks are happy about that.”

      Brittany nodded. “Well, I’m still single. What about you?”

      “Heck, yes. I’m building a career in freelance photography and not a career of heartache due to men. And that’s all the single guys in this city will give you. Now tell me about you, and please don’t say you’ve been living in Phoenix all this time and our paths never crossed.”

      Brittany smiled. “No, I just arrived in town yesterday. In fact this is my first visit to Phoenix.” And because Nikki had been her best friend during that phase of her life when she’d wanted to know her mother, she couldn’t help but say in an excited voice, “And I’m here because of my mother.”

      Nikki’s face lit up like a huge beam of light, and the smile and excitement made her face glow. “You found her?”

      “No, actually she found me.” Then sadness eased into Brittany’s eyes when she added, “But we didn’t get a chance to meet before she died.”

      “Oh, Brit,” Nikki said, giving her a huge hug. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

      Brittany found herself telling Nikki the entire story and why she was in Phoenix and there at the auction.

      “Well, I believe things will work out for you. There are so many foreclosures out there, you might not have much competition in the bidding. I wish you luck because I know how much getting that house means to you. It’s your only link to your mother.”

      Brittany nodded. “I’ll do anything to get it. I already got my loan approval letter, so the money is not a problem. I just hope things go smoothly.”

      Nikki smiled. “And they will. I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Now tell me, are you still living in Tampa? And what do you do there?”

      “I’m still in Tampa and I own Etiquette Matters, a mobile etiquette school. I and the ten people I employ travel all over the country and hold seminars and teach classes. Each of us is assigned a certain section of the country. Things are going great because a number of corporations have begun introducing business etiquette and protocol as part of their corporate image training.”

      “Wow, that sounds wonderful. So when can we get together? There is so much that we need to catch up on,” Nikki said.

      “What about dinner later? If everything works out—and I’m keeping positive that it will—I’ll have reason to celebrate. And I plan on staying for a couple of weeks when I get the house. I want to move in and spend time there, knowing it was where my mother once lived.”

      Shivers of excitement raced up Brittany’s spine when she added, “And what you said earlier is true. It is my one connection to my mother.”

      Galen waited until the women had exchanged contact information by way of business cards and hugged for what he hoped would be the last time before they finally headed in different directions.

      The conversation between them had lasted a good twenty minutes. They had been so busy chatting away, catching up on old times as well as the new, that they hadn’t even noticed him standing less than ten feet from them in the same spot, eavesdropping the entire time. It had been time well spent, because he’d gotten a lot of information about her.

      Her name was Brittany Thrasher. She was twenty-eight, she lived in Tampa and she owned some sort of etiquette school that taught proper protocol and manners. He shook his head. Go figure.

      He also knew all about the house she would be bidding on and why she wanted it so badly. It was a house on a private road off Rushing Street. He knew the area.

      Galen glanced at his watch and figured he would hang around after all and make sure he and Brittany Thrasher got reacquainted on more pleasant terms. It was time she saw that he wasn’t such a bad guy. He’d just had an off day that time in New York. He would just throw on the Steele charm, talk her into taking him along when she went and took a tour of her new house. No telling where things would lead from there.

      He was about to head in the direction she’d gone when another conversation caught his ears. This time between two men who were standing together talking.

      “Are you sure the house off Rushing Street is going on the block today?” the short, stocky man asked his companion, a taller bald-headed guy.

      “I’m positive. I verified it was listed in the program. If the rezoning of the area goes as planned—and I have no reason to believe that it won’t with all the money we’re pouring into the rezoning commissioner’s election campaign—I figure that within a year, that property will be approved for commercial use.”

      The short, stocky man chuckled. “Good. Then we can tear the house down and use


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