Hidden Pleasures (3 page)

B
rittany got nervous as she glanced around the room. It was crowded, wall to wall. She knew there were fifteen homes being auctioned off today and she hoped none of these people were interested in the one she wanted. She would do as Nikki had suggested and think positive.

She smiled when she thought of how she’d run into her friend again after all these years. Although she’d had other friends, she’d never felt that special closeness with them that she’d felt with Nikki. And now they had agreed to do a better job of staying in touch and would start off rekindling their friendship by going out to dinner tonight. They had so much to catch up on.

She checked her watch. The auction would start in less than ten minutes and she was already nervous. This
was the first time she’d ever attended an auction and hoped it wouldn’t take long to get to her house.

Her house.

Already she was thinking of it as hers. She couldn’t wait to go inside and look around. And she bet if she tried hard enough she would be able to feel her mother’s presence. She shifted in her seat at the same time the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She scanned the room, wondering about the reason for her eerie feeling. But she didn’t know anyone in the room, and no one here knew her.

The announcer at the front of the room hit his gavel on the table several times to get everyone’s attention. She glanced down at the program and saw her house was listed as number eight. She pulled in a nervous breath when the auctioneer announced the auction had begun.

Galen was satisfied to sit in the back where he could see everything going on, and had a pretty good view of Brittany Thrasher. He also had a good view of those two guys who wanted her house. Of course he didn’t plan to let them have it. Hopefully she had enough cash on hand to handle her own affairs, but in case she didn’t, then unknowingly she had a guardian angel.

The thought of him being any woman’s angel had him chuckling. He didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive, and in her case he didn’t have to dig deep to find out what it was. He wanted her in his bed. Or, if she
preferred, her bed. It really didn’t matter to him at this point.

He leaned back in his chair as he thought about all the heat the two of them could and would generate. But he had a feeling that with Brittany Thrasher he would need to proceed with caution. There was something about her and this intense desire he was feeling whenever he looked at her that he just couldn’t put his finger on. But he would.

“Now we will move on to house number eight,” the auctioneer was saying, interrupting his thoughts. For now it was a good thing.

“Who would like to open the bid?”

Brittany’s heart raced when the bidding had officially begun on her house. She had gone on the Internet last night and visited the Web site that outlined the most effective way to participate in an auction. Rule number one said you should not start off the bid. Instead you should scope out the bidders to see if and when you could enter the fray. The key was knowing how much money you had and working with that.

The minimum bid had been set and so far the bidding remained in what she considered a healthy range with only three people actually showing interest. The highest bid was now at thirty-five thousand with only two people left bidding. She decided to enter at forty-six thousand.

She kept her eyes straight ahead on the auctioneer and didn’t bother looking back to see who the other
bidders were. That was another rule. Keep your eyes on the prize and not your opponents.

“We have a bid of fifty-two thousand. Do I hear fifty-three?”

She lifted her hand. “Fifty-three.”

“We have a fifty-three. What about fifty-five?”

“Fifty-five.”

Brittany couldn’t resist looking sideways and saw a short, stocky man had made the bid. A nervousness settled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that the man wanted
her
house.

“We’ve got fifty-five. Do I hear fifty-seven?”

She lifted her hand. “Fifty-seven.”

“The lady’s bid is fifty-seven. Do I hear a sixty?”

“Seventy.”

Brittany gasped under her breath at the high jump. Her approval letter was for a hundred thousand. She’d figured since the taxes were less than that it would be sufficient. Now she practically squirmed in her seat.

“We have seventy. Do I hear a seventy-two?”

She raised her hand. “Seventy-two.” There were only two people left bidding, and she wondered how far the man would go in his bids.

She couldn’t help but turn at that moment and regard the man. He flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wanted her house and—

“We have seventy-two. Can we get a seventy-five?” the auctioneer interrupted her thoughts by asking.

“Seventy-five,” the man quickly spoke up.

The room got silent and she knew why. They had
reached the amount of the taxes that were due, but the auctioneer would continue until someone had placed the highest bid.

“We have seventy-five. Can we get eighty?”

Galen sighed, getting bored. The bidding for this particular house could go on all evening and he was ready for it to come to an end. It was obvious to everyone in the room that both of the two lone bidders wanted the house and would continue until someone conceded. He seriously doubted either would.

“We have eighty-six. Can we get an eighty-eight?” the auctioneer asked.

The short, stocky man raised his hand at eighty-eight.

“Can we get ninety?”

Brittany raised her hand. “Ninety.” She had sent a text message to her banker for an updated approval letter asking for an increase but hadn’t gotten a response. What if he was out of the office and hadn’t gotten her request? She couldn’t let anyone else get her house.

She glanced across the room at the man bidding against her. He appeared as determined as she was to keep bidding.

“We have ninety. Can we get ninety-two?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

Everyone in the room, including Brittany and the short, stocky man gasped. Even the auctioneer seemed surprised. Brittany closed her eyes feeling her only
connection to her mother slipping away and a part of her couldn’t believe it was happening.

“We have a bid of two hundred thousand dollars from the man in the back. Do we have two-ten?” No one said anything. Both Brittany and the short, stocky man were still speechless.

“Going once, going twice. Sold! The house has been sold to the man in the rear. And I suggest we all take a fifteen-minute break.”

The people around her started getting up, but Brittany just sat there. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She had lost her mother’s house. Her house.

She glanced over at the short, stocky man and he seemed just as disappointed as she felt. He nodded in her direction before he and the man he was with got up and walked out. The room was practically empty now with everyone taking advantage of the break. There was nothing left for her to do but leave. However, she couldn’t help wondering the identity of the individual who had won her house. She really needed to get that person’s name and if nothing else, hopefully she could negotiate with him to purchase her mother’s belongings and—

“Fancy running into you again.”

With so much weighing heavily on her mind, it took Brittany some effort to lift her head up to see who was talking to her. As soon as her gaze collided with the man’s green eyes, she knew. Her mouth gaped open as
she stared at him while he stood there smiling down at her.

“Wh-where did you come from?” she stuttered as she tried recovering from shock.

This was the same man who, even with all his less-than-desirable manners, had been able to creep into her dreams once or twice. She swallowed knowing it had been more often than that. And just thinking about those times sent a shiver through her. Fantasizing about him in her dreams was one thing, but actually seeing him again in the flesh was another.

What was he doing in Phoenix, and better yet, why did their paths have to cross again? Especially now?

“Where did I come from?” he asked, repeating her question as if he’d found it amusing. “I came from my house this morning and don’t worry I came by car and not by cab.”

She glared at him. If he thought that line was amusing he was wrong. All it did was remind her of just how impolite he’d been that day. That’s really what she should be remembering, not thinking about the way the smile touched his lips, or what a gorgeous pair of eyes he had, or why even now when she had just lost the one thing she’d ever wanted in life, that she could feel the charge in the air between them. The heat. She’d felt it that day in New York, too, even with all her anger.

She hadn’t taken the time to analyze it until a few days later, in the privacy of her bedroom when every time she would close her eyes she would see him looking so extremely handsome and dressed in a tux. And his
pants had been unzipped. A sensation stirred in her belly at the memory.

Automatically, her gaze lowered to his zipper and she was grateful he was more together this time. Boy, was he. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a white Western shirt and a pair of scuffed boots. He was holding a dark brown Stetson in his hand, and she appreciated that at least he didn’t have it on his head. Someone evidently hadn’t told a couple of the men who’d attended the auction that it was bad manners to wear a hat inside a building.

And he was tall. She had to actually tilt her head back to look at him. He was built and she particularly liked the way his jeans stretched tight across his thighs. His shoulders were broad beneath his tailored shirt. She could tell.

The sight of him could make a woman drool, and as she continued to study him she remembered how his eyes had captured her from the first. Although she hadn’t wanted them to. Those gorgeous Smokey Robinson eyes. She’d thought that then and was thinking the same thing now.

“Small world, isn’t it?”

His statement made her realize she was still sitting down. The shock of losing her house hadn’t worn off. She slowly stood up and didn’t miss the way the green-eyed gaze traveled over her when she did so. She rolled her eyes. She was a big girl and could handle lust for what it was. He was a man and, she presumed, a single man. At least he wasn’t wearing a ring, not that it meant
anything these days. Besides, no matter how good he looked she couldn’t forget that he was the epitome of rude.

And she was quick to size him up. He was a man on the prowl. She’d met more than one in her day and had always managed to convince them to prowl someplace else, in some other woman’s neck of the woods. She’d discovered long ago that the whole idea of sex was overrated. She certainly hadn’t gotten anything out of it so far.

“So, what about you? Where did you come from?” he prompted.

She thought that perhaps they were standing too close. Had he taken a step closer and she hadn’t noticed it? She glanced around. The room was completely empty except for them.

“Doesn’t matter where I’m from because I’m on my way back there.” She glanced at her watch. “If you will excuse me, I need to find someone.”

“Who?”

She tightened her lips to keep from saying it wasn’t any of his business but decided not to. Besides, if he had been in the room during the bidding, there was a chance he might know the identity of the person who’d won her house.

“The man who placed the winning bid on the house I wanted. I really need to see him,” she said.

“Okay.”

When he didn’t step back she moved around him.
“Have a nice day,” she said, throwing the words over her shoulder as she headed for the exit door.

“Where are you going? We haven’t been introduced.”

She stopped and turned to him. She refused to be rude even if he had a history of doing so. “I’m rather in a hurry. Like I said, I’ve got to find—”

“Me.”

Brittany tilted her head slightly. “Excuse me?”

A slow, sinfully sensual smile touched his lips. “I said in that case you’re looking for me. I’m Galen Steele and I’m the person who placed the winning bid on house number eight.”

Brittany took a step back thinking that couldn’t be possible. This man, this rude man, could not be the new owner of
her
house. Not a man on the prowl. The man whose high testosterone level spoke volumes, to the point where even she—a person who’d never enjoyed sex—could read it. She guessed you didn’t have to enjoy the act to feel the effect. Case in point, the way her heart was thumping in her chest.

“You have
my
house?” she asked, taking a deep, steadying breath. She still didn’t want to believe such a thing was possible.

He nodded. “Signed, sealed and delivered. But it could be yours. I’m definitely willing to negotiate, Ms….?”

“Thrasher. Brittany Thrasher.” She brushed her fingers against her throat trying to keep up with him.
“Are you saying that you might want to part with the house?”

He shrugged. “Why not? It serves me no purpose. I already have a house that I happen to like.”

She threw up her hands in frustration, anger and total confusion. “Then why did you bid on it?”

He chuckled. “Because I saw how much you wanted it and I figured it would be a good bargaining tool.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “A bargaining tool for what?”

“For when we make a deal. I’m going to make an offer that I hope you can’t refuse.”

She pulled in a deep breath. Did he think she wanted the house that bad that he could make a quick profit right here and now? Evidently that’s just what he thought. And unfortunately, he was right. She wanted that house.

“How much?” she decided to cut to the chase and ask.

He lifted a brow. “How much?”

“Yes, how much do you want for it?”

“A week.”

“Excuse me? I must have misunderstood you.”

He smiled. “No, you didn’t. I won’t take money for the house, Ms. Thrasher, but I will take a week. Just one week of your time, on my terms, and the house is yours, free and clear.”

For a stretch of more than a minute, the only sound in the room was their breathing, and then Brittany spoke and she tilted her head back and her gaze locked with his as she stared up at him. “Let me get this straight.
You will turn over that house to me if I spend a week with you?”