She swallowed. “Like I said. Talk is cheap.”

He smiled hungrily. “And like I said, I’m a man of action.”

Then he leaned in and captured her mouth, not giving her a chance to stifle the moan that immediately rose in her throat. He wrapped his arms around her, and his hands stroked her back at the same time his tongue stroked every inch of her mouth.

She had long ago decided his kisses were unique, full of passion and capable of inciting lust. But she was also discovering that each time they kissed she encountered something else. This kiss was tapping in to her emotions and she was fighting like hell to keep them under tight control as far as Galen was concerned. This was all a game to him. Not for her. For her, it was about finding herself in more ways than one. Discovering her past and making headway into her future.

He deepened the kiss and she felt his hands move downward to cup her backside and pull her more fully against him. She groaned again when she felt his hardness press into her at a place that was already tingling with longing. Unfamiliar sensations were floating around in her stomach and she was drenched even more in potent desire.

Then he suddenly broke off the kiss and took a step back. She watched him lick his lips with enjoyment before he thrust his hands into his jeans pockets, looked at her and asked, “Did I make my point?”

Oh, he’d made it, all right, but she’d never admit it to him.

Hidden Pleasures
Brenda Jackson

NEW YORK TIMES AND USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

BRENDA JACKSON is a die “heart” romantic who married her childhood sweetheart and still proudly wears the “going steady” ring he gave her when she was fifteen. Because Brenda has always believed in the power of love, her stories always have happy endings. In her real-life love story, Brenda and her husband of thirty-six years, Gerald, live in Jacksonville, Florida, and have two sons.

A New York Times bestselling author of more than fifty romance titles, Brenda is a recent retiree who worked thirty-seven years in management at a major insurance company. She divides her time between family, writing and traveling with Gerald. You may write Brenda at P.O. Box 28267, Jacksonville, Florida 32226, by e-mail at WriterBJackson@aol.com, or visit her Web site at www.brendajackson.net.

Books by Brenda Jackson

Kimani Romance

*Solid Soul

*Night Heat

*Beyond Temptation

*Risky Pleasures

In Bed with Her Boss

*Irresistible Forces

Just Deserts

The Object of His Protection

Temperatures Rising

*Intimate Seduction

Bachelor Untamed

*Hidden Pleasures

* Steele Family titles

Kimani Arabesque

**Tonight and Forever

**Whispered Promises

**Eternally Yours

**One Special Moment

**Fire and Desire

**Secret Love

**True Love

**Surrender Wrapped in Pleasure

Ravished by Desire

**Sensual Confessions

** Madaris Family

MILLS & BOON

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To the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.

This year marks my fifteenth anniversary as a published author and I want to thank all of you for your support.

To my readers who have been with me since my first book, this seventy-fifth book is especially for you.

To my good friend and classmate Valeria Stirrup Jenkins of the Chloe Agency Finishing and Modeling School in Memphis,

Tennessee, for her feedback on proper etiquette and manners.

Thanks for your help. It was truly appreciated.

Hear thou, my son, and be wise, and guide thine heart in the way.

—Proverbs 23:19

Dear Reader,

This is my seventy-fifth book and I am proud to present it to you!

When I introduced the Steeles with Chance’s story four years ago, little did I know that I would be writing beyond Donovan’s story. But the more I wrote about that family, the more I knew I had to tell you about their cousins—those other Steeles who live in Phoenix. They are the ones you will get to know as the “Bad News Steeles.”

There are six brothers and the oldest of the bunch is Galen Steele, a man after any woman’s heart with no intention of letting any woman after his. Galen and his five brothers are convinced they will use their playa cards forever. But little do they know I have a surprise for each of them.

Join me in getting to know the Phoenix Steeles and enjoy reading how I sprinkle my love dust on each of their resistant hearts. In Hidden Pleasures, Galen wants Brittany Thrasher as another notch on his bedpost and makes her an offer he knows she can’t refuse. At first it seems as if everything is going according to plan, but then fate steps in and Galen discovers the hard way that some things are just meant to be.

Thank you for making the Steeles a very special family. I look forward to bringing you more books of endless love and red-hot passion.

Happy reading!

Brenda Jackson

The Steele Family of Phoenix
Family Tree

Chapter One

“Holy crap!” Galen Steele muttered as he turned away from the bank of elevators and raced for the stairways of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Manhattan. A high school soccer team was checking out and filling all the elevators going down to the lobby. Galen could not be late for this wedding. His cousin Donovan would kill him if he were.

All the other groomsmen had left for the church a good thirty minutes ago, but he’d lagged behind when a woman he’d met at the bar last night had unexpectedly knocked on his hotel room door just when he was about to walk out. Not one to turn down a booty call, he’d thought he could make it quick. He had no idea Tina What’s-Her-Name didn’t believe in a quickie. A smile split his lips as he recalled how she’d made it worth his while.

And now he was late. He’d heard of weddings being held up for the bride or the groom, but never for a groomsman.

He vividly remembered Donovan’s warning last night at the bachelor party. His cousin, who’d been engaged two months shy of a year, had made it clear that he’d waited long enough for his wedding day and he intended for it to go off without a hitch. And that meant he wanted all twenty of his groomsmen to be at the church on time. As he spoke, he’d looked directly at Galen and his five brothers—not so affectionately known as the “Bad News Steeles from Phoenix.”

Hell, it wasn’t Galen’s fault that his father, Drew Steele, had actually gotten run out of Charlotte over thirty years ago by a bunch of women out for blood—namely his. Drew’s reputation as a skirt chaser was legendary, and although the old man had finally settled down with one woman, his six sons had been cursed with his testosterone-driven genes. Galen, Tyson, Eli, Jonas, Mercury and Gannon didn’t know how to say no to a willing woman. And if she wasn’t willing, they had the seductive powers to not only get her in a willing mood, but to push her right over the top. Or let her stay on the bottom, depending upon her favorite position.

Galen glanced at his watch again as he reached the main floor. Hurrying toward the revolving doors, he prayed a taxi would be available. This was New York City, the Big Apple, and yellow cabs were supposed to be all over the place, right?

He smiled. One was pulling up as soon as he exited the hotel and he ran toward it, thinking he might be on time to the wedding after all.

Not waiting to be assisted by a bellman, he opened the cab’s door, slid in the seat and was about to direct the driver to the church when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up and his gaze collided with a face he could only define as gut-grippingly beautiful. Eyes the color of caramel, naturally arched brows, a cute little nose and a pair of too-luscious lips.

The beauty he’d finally gotten out of his room less than ten minutes ago had nothing on this woman. It was like comparing apples to oranges. Both were good fruit, but one was sweeter.

He found his voice to speak. “Yes?”

“This is my cab.”

He couldn’t help but grin when he asked, “You own it?”

Her frown gave him a warning. It also gave him one hell of a hard-on. “No, I don’t own it, but I called for it. It’s here to take me to the airport. I have a flight to catch.”

“And I have a wedding to attend and I’m late.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and the shapeliest pair of breasts he’d ever seen pressed tight against her blouse. The sight of them made his mouth water. “Sorry, but your lack of planning does not constitute an emergency on my part,” she said in a haughty voice. “The proper thing for you to have done was to allow yourself ample time to reach your destination.”

“Well, I didn’t and as much I’ve enjoyed chatting with you, I have to go.” He regretted saying so, because he would love to spend more time with her.

She dropped her arms and arched her shoulders. Once again his attention was drawn to her breasts. “This is my cab!”

“It was your cab, lady, and I really do have to go.” He turned his attention to the driver and said, “I need to get to the Dayspring Baptist Church in Harlem in less than twenty minutes.”

The driver shook his head, reluctant to move. “I don’t know, man,” he said with a deep Jamaican accent. “I was called to take a lady to the airport.”

Galen took out his wallet, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and offered it to the guy. “I’m down to nineteen minutes now.”

The man almost snatched the bill out of Galen’s hand and shot the woman an apologetic look. “Sorry, miss, I have a large family to feed. I’ll call in and have another cab sent for you.”

Satisfied, Galen reached over to close the door, but the woman—the sinfully beautiful but very angry woman—was blocking the way. He tilted his head back and looked up at her. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do mind. You have to be the rudest man I’ve ever met. Someone needs to teach you some manners.”

He smiled. “You’re probably right, but not today. Some other time, perhaps.”

She glared at him as she moved out of the way, but not before saying, “And for heaven’s sake, will you please zip up your pants.”

He glanced down. “Oops.” He quickly slid up his zipper before closing the door.

The cab pulled away then and he couldn’t resist glancing back through the window at the woman they’d left at the curb. She was not a happy camper. In fact she looked downright furious. And he should give a damn why? Because he had behaved like an ill-mannered brute, which was not his typical behavior, especially when it came to beautiful women. It was definitely not the impression he would want to leave with one. If he’d had the time he would have charmed her right out of her panties and bra. It was the Steele way.

Oh, well. You win some and you lose some. And he’d much preferred losing her than his behind, and there was no doubt in his mind that Donovan would kick that very part of his anatomy all over New York if he was late for his wedding.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. Donovan, you may kiss your bride.”

Donovan Steele didn’t waste time pulling his wife into his arms and giving her a kiss many probably thought was rather long. And if that wasn’t bad enough, when he’d finally pulled his mouth from hers, he whispered, “I love you, sweetheart.”

Natalie Ford Steele smiled up at her husband and said, “And I love you.”

And then she was swept up into her husband’s arms and carried out of the church.

Galen swallowed to keep from gagging as he watched the entire scene. Even though Natalie was a nice-looking woman, a real beauty, he’d still had a hard time believing that Donovan had decided to hang up his bachelor shoes and take a wife. Donovan’s reputation as a womanizer was legendary; in fact, he’d been so infamous in Charlotte that there were some who thought he was one of Drew Steele’s sons instead of a cousin. Galen figured Charlotte wouldn’t be the same without a bachelor Steele to keep things lively. Maybe he ought to consider leaving Phoenix and moving east.

He kicked that idea out of his mind real quick. His older Steele cousins in Charlotte would probably give him a job in their Steele Manufacturing Company. He much preferred remaining in Phoenix doing what he loved, which some people thought was trivial.

And his father topped that list of critics. Drew Steele believed that a man was supposed to get up at seven o’clock, Monday through Friday, and work at some job until at least five. It had taken Drew a long time to buy into the Principles According to Galen Steele, which said that a man was supposed to work smarter, not harder. That was why at the age of thirty-four Galen was a multibillionaire and was still building an empire, while working less than twenty hours a week and having fun at what he did.

Fourteen years ago while attending the University of Phoenix, pursuing a degree in engineering, he and his two roommates decided to do something to make money, something different than what their friends were doing—like selling their blood or their sperm. So they began creating video games. After their games became a hit on campus, they formed a business and by the time they graduated from college two years later, they were millionaires. The three of them were still partners today.

Their business, the SID Corporation, was represented by three CEOs, Galen Steele, Eric Ingram and Wesley Duval. Their only employees were their art team. He, Eric and Wesley shared duties as game designers and programmers and leased a suite in an exclusive area of Phoenix’s business district for appearances’ sake and as a tax write-off. They preferred designing their games right in the garage of their homes. Simple. Easy. Shrewd.

He shook his head. He and his brothers had inherited the old man’s penchant for women, but they’d been born to excel. Drew’s expectations for his six sons had been high, and all of them had become successful in their own right.

Seeing the other groomsmen move forward, Galen brought his attention back to the ceremony in time to stay on cue and file out with the rest of the wedding party. He took the arm of his partner, Laurie, one of Natalie’s friends from college. She was pretty—and she was also very much married.

Outside in the perfect June day, he couldn’t help but chuckle as he checked out the faces of his brothers and a number of Donovan’s still-single friends. They had stood up there and witnessed the entire ceremony and they looked as if they were in shock. Galen understood how they felt. There wasn’t a woman alive who’d make him consider tying the knot. He got shivers just thinking about it.

“You barely made it.”

Galen came out of his reverie to glance over at two of his brothers, Tyson and Gannon. “Doesn’t matter, Tyson. I made it,” he said, smiling. “With a minute to spare.”

“Should we ask why you were almost late?” Gannon asked with a curious look on his face.

Galen chuckled. He was the oldest and at twenty-nine Gannon was the youngest. Galen knew he was his youngest brother’s hero and because of that he tried walking a straight-and-narrow path. Doing the role-model thing wasn’t always easy, especially when you were the offspring of the infamous Drew Steele. But on occasion Galen liked pulling his youngest brother’s leg. Like now.

“I’ll be glad to tell you why I was almost late,” Galen said, leaning close to his brothers as if what he had to say was for their ears only.

“I got caught up in a foursome and lost track of the time,” he lied. And just so they would know what he meant, he said, “It was me and three women in my hotel room. Get the picture?”

“No kidding?” Gannon said, easily impressed.

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Yes, he’s full of it, Gannon. Don’t believe a word he says. It might have been one woman, but it wasn’t three.”

Galen could only smile. There were only eleven months’ difference in his and Tyson’s ages. A lot of people thought they were twins, but they were as different as night and day. Dr. Tyson Steele tended to be too serious at times.

“Tell him the truth, Galen, or Gannon is going to go around believing you’re superhuman or something,” Tyson said.

“All right.” He gave Gannon his serious look. “There were two women. I took care of one and the other one got away,” Galen said, thinking of the woman whose cab he’d been forced to hijack. He could still see the anger on her gorgeous face, especially the fire that had lit a striking pair of eyes.

“Was she good-looking?” Gannon had to ask.

Galen lifted a brow. “Who?”

“The one who got away.”

Galen couldn’t help but smile. “She was more than good-looking. The woman was absolutely stunning.”

“Damn, man. And you let her get away?” Gannon looked clearly disappointed.

“It was either that or get my behind kicked by Donovan if I was late for his wedding.”

“Okay, everyone, let’s go back inside the church for pictures,” the wedding director said, interrupting their conversation. “Then we’ll return to the Ritz-Carlton for the reception.”

Galen’s thoughts shifted back to the woman. The one who got away. Like he’d told Gannon, she was more than good-looking and for some reason he could not get her out of his mind.

And at that moment he thought he’d give just about anything to see her again.

Brittany Thrasher tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear after bringing her car to a stop in front of her house. It was nice to be back home after attending that seminar in New York.

A few minutes later she was walking through her front door wheeling her luggage behind her. The first thing she planned to do was strip off her clothes in deference to the Tampa heat that flirted with the hundred-degree mark.

She looked at the stack of envelopes on the table and couldn’t help but appreciate her neighbor and friend Jennifer Barren for coming over every day to get her mail and water her plants. This was Brittany’s busiest travel time of the year. As CEO of her own business, Etiquette Matters, she and her ten employees traveled all over the country teaching the basics of proper etiquette to businesses, schools and interested groups. Last week her students consisted of a group of NFL players who’d been invited to the White House for dinner.

Kicking off her shoes, she went to her bedroom and her mind went to the man in New York, the one who’d had the audacity to take her cab from right under her nose. And with his pants unzipped. He hadn’t seemed the least bit embarrassed when she’d brought it to his attention. The jerk.

She shook her head. Another thing she remembered about him other than the open zipper was his eyes. He had Smokey Robinson eyes, a mossy shade of green that would have taken her breath away had she not been so angry. The man had no manners, which was a real turnoff. She would love to have him as a student for just one day in Etiquette Matters. She would all but shove good manners down his throat. In a gracious and congenial way, of course.

She flipped through the stack of envelopes, sorting out the junk mail that needed to be trashed. One envelope in particular caught her attention. The handwriting on it was so elegant, she’d give just about anything to have that kind of penmanship.

The envelope had no return address, but the postal stamp indicated it had been sent from Phoenix. She didn’t know a soul in Phoenix and it was one of the few places she’d never visited. Using her mail opener, she opened the letter and her eyes connected to words that had her gaping in shock.

Ms. Thrasher,

I have reason to believe you are the daughter I gave up for adoption twenty-eight years ago.

Chapter Two

Six months later

“Will any of my sons ever marry?”

Galen refused to look up from reading the documents that were spread out on his desk. He didn’t have to glance at Eden Tyson Steele to know she was on a roll. Ever since Donovan’s wedding, his mother had been swept away by wishful thinking. She had witnessed the ceremony, heard the wedding music and seen how happy the bride and groom were. Since then she’d felt something was missing in her life, especially because Galen’s kinfolk in Charlotte could now claim that all the North Carolina Steeles, both male and female, had gotten hitched.

He’d gotten a call earlier from Mercury warning him that their mother was making house calls to each of her sons. Her message was consistent and pretty damn clear. She wanted daughters-in-law. She wasn’t pushing for grandbabies yet, but the brothers figured that craving wouldn’t be long. First she had to work on getting them married.

“Galen?”

He breathed out a deep sigh. There was no way he could ignore her question any longer. Besides, he figured that the sooner he gave her an answer, the quicker she would move on to the next son.

He glanced up and gazed into eyes identical to his and those of his five brothers. They might have Drew Steele’s features and most of his genes, but their eyes belonged to Eden Steele all the way. And Drew would be the first to admit that it had been Eden’s eyes that had captured his attention and then his heart. “Yes, Mom?”

“Will any of you ever marry?”

He fought back a smile because he knew for his mother this was not an amusing moment. She was as serious as a heart attack whenever she broached the subject of her sons’ marital status.

Galen leaned back in his chair and gave her his direct attention, which he felt she deserved, even if she was asking him something he’d rather not address again. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but my answer to your question is no. I don’t ever plan to marry.”

Her expression indicated his response had been one she hadn’t wanted to hear. Again. “How can you say that, Galen?”

“Easily.”

Seeing her agitation, he went on to say, “Look, Mom, maybe saying I’ll never marry is laying it on rather thick, so let’s just say it’s not in my immediate future. Dad was almost forty when the two of you married, and everyone had given up on the idea he’d ever settle down and stop chasing skirts. So maybe there’s hope for me yet.”

He couldn’t help but smile. What he’d said sounded good and should hold her for a while, but with the scowl on her face, he wasn’t so sure. His mother was a beautiful woman and he could see how Drew Steele had taken one look at her and decided she was the best thing since gingerbread. There was a ten-year difference in their ages and according to Drew, the former Eden Tyson, a fashion model whose face graced a number of magazines worldwide, had made him work hard for her hand. And when they’d married, Drew had known his womanizing days were over and that Eden would be the only woman for him for the rest of his life.

Galen doubted such a woman existed for him. He had yet to meet one who could knock him off his feet…unless it was to make him fall flat on his back in their bed. He enjoyed women. He enjoyed making love to them. He enjoyed whispering sweet nothings in their ears. There was not one out there he would sniff behind other than to relieve the ache behind his zipper. What could he say? He was one of Drew’s boys.

Most people in Phoenix either knew or had heard about “those” Steele boys. While he was in high school, most mothers had tried keeping their daughters behind lock and key. It never worked. Chances were those he missed out on had fallen for the likes of Tyson, Eli, Jonas, Mercury or Gannon. No female was safe from that lethal Steele charm.

That lethal Steele charm…

Too bad he hadn’t had the time to lay it on that woman in New York. The same woman he couldn’t get out of his mind. When they’d gotten back to the hotel for the reception, he’d actually glanced around for her, hoping that perhaps she’d change her mind about leaving. He’d even gone so far as to wish that perhaps she’d missed her flight and had to come back. No such luck. But just for him to hope that much bad luck on anyone proved what an impact the woman had made on his senses.

“You and your brothers are not your father, Galen.”

“No, but we are his sons,” he said, holding his mother’s gaze. “Dad didn’t marry until he found that special woman, so I’d say the same will hold true with the six of us.”

“And I hope when she comes along, the six of you won’t screw things up.”

He chuckled. “Like Dad almost did?” Of course he’d heard the story about how their father had refused to accept his fate and ended up pushing Eden away. By the time he’d come to his senses, she had left the country to do a photo shoot somewhere in Paris. Panicked that he had lost her forever, he had tracked her down and asked her to marry him. To some the story might sound romantic, but to Galen it was a good display of common sense on his father’s part. His mother was world-class.

“So, Mom, where’s your next stop?” he asked, throwing out the hint that their little talk had come to a close.

She sighed in resignation and tossed back the hair from her face. “I guess I’ll drop by and see Tyson. This is his day off from the hospital.”

Galen smiled. “You might want to call first. He probably has company.” Usually any day off for Tyson meant a day spent in bed with some woman.

His mother made a face before waving her hand at his words. “Whatever,” she said it in that I-don’t-care-what-I-catch-him-doing voice.

He stood and came around his desk to give her a hug. “You do know that I love you and enjoy your visits, don’t you, Mom?”

His mother sighed. “I won’t give up hope on any of you, especially you because you’re the oldest.”

He lifted a brow and wondered what that was supposed to mean. She would have it easier marrying Gannon off than him. Galen had been out in the world the longest and still enjoyed sampling what was out there, whereas Gannon was just getting his feet wet. His mother would best grab him now before he discovered the true meaning of women.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Mom,” he decided to say, reaching out and gently squeezing her hand. “If I ever meet a woman who can hold my interest, you’ll be the first to know.”

Brittany sank into the chair opposite the man’s desk. Luther Banyon was the attorney who’d sent her the recent letter, advising her that Gloria McIntyre, the woman who’d sent her that handwritten letter over six months ago, had died of ovarian cancer at the age of forty-four. That meant Gloria had only been sixteen when she’d given birth to Brittany.

Her tongue pressed against her sealed lips as she thought about how unfair it was to lose the mother she’d only just found. The letter from Ms. McIntyre had answered a lot of questions Brittany had always had. She’d known she had been given up at birth. That had been evident from her trek from foster home to foster home during her adolescent years.

There had been a time in her teens when she’d desired to find her birth mother, but after a while she’d gotten over it and had accepted things as they were. She’d moved on with her life, finishing high school at the top of her class and going on to college, then taking out a loan and opening Etiquette Matters.

“Now, Ms. Thrasher, we can begin.”

Mr. Banyon pulled her out of her reverie. She had arrived in Phoenix a couple of hours ago, picked up a rental car and had come to his office straight from the airport.

“As stated in my letter, Gloria McIntyre died last month. I hadn’t known she’d hired a private investigator to locate you until after she’d passed. That explains some things.”

Brittany raised a brow. “What does it explain?”

“What she’s been doing with her money for the past five years. When she died, her savings account was down to barely anything. And her home, although it has been paid off for years, was almost in foreclosure due to back taxes.”

The man paused and said, “The doctor gave her five years to live and she used every day of those five years trying to find you. I’m so sorry her time ran out before the two of you could meet. She was a fine woman.”

Brittany nodded. “Were you her attorney for long?”

“For over twenty years. She was married to Hugh McIntyre, but he died close to eight years ago. They never had any children. I guess it was after Hugh died that she decided she wanted to find you, the child she’d given away at sixteen.”

Brittany didn’t say anything. And then, “Mr. Banyon, your correspondence said she left a sealed letter for me.”

“Yes, and she also left something else.”

“What?”

“Her home. Though I must tell you that although it’s been willed to you, there’s a tax lien on it and it’s due to be auctioned off tomorrow.”

Brittany’s chest tightened. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. So if you want your mother’s home, you arrived in the nick of time.”

Brittany nodded. Yes, she wanted her mother’s home because it was the key to who her mother was and why and how she’d made the decision that she had over twenty-eight years ago.

“And the items in the house?”

“Everything is still intact. However, house and contents are due to be auctioned. If someone else outbids you, you will have to negotiate with them and reach some sort of agreement or settlement as to the contents. All the city is concerned about is making sure the back taxes are recovered.”

“I understand. Where will the auction take place tomorrow and what time?”

“I’ll have my secretary provide you with all the information you need. Now if you will excuse me, I’ll get that letter.”

Brittany pulled in a deep breath at the same time she felt her heart soften. She’d known from the last letter that Gloria McIntyre wasn’t one to say a lot, but what she did say had a profound impact. This letter was no different.

To my daughter, Brittany Thrasher, I leave my home and all my worldly goods and possessions.

They aren’t much, but they are mine to pass on to you with the love of a mother who always wanted the best for you.

Gloria McIntyre

“Are you all right, Ms. Thrasher?”

Brittany glanced up and met Mr. Banyon’s concerned gaze. “Yes, I’m fine. Do you know how much the back taxes amount to?”

“Yes, we’re looking at almost five years’ worth,” he said, browsing through a stack of papers. “Here we are. It comes to close to seventy thousand dollars.”

Brittany blinked. “Seventy thousand dollars!”

Mr. Banyon nodded. “Yes. Although the house itself isn’t all that large, it sits on a whole lot of land and it has its own private road.”

Brittany swallowed deeply. Seventy thousand dollars was more than she’d expected to part with. But it really didn’t matter. She’d manage it. The business had had a good year. Paying the back taxes to gain possession of her mother’s house was something she had to do. Something she wanted to do.

Her mother.

The thought made her quiver inside. Her only regret was that they’d never met. She could only fantasize about the type of relationship they would have shared if there had been more time. Just the thought that the reason the taxes had gotten delinquent in the first place was because her mother had placed locating her as her top priority was almost overwhelming.

“Is there a way I can get inside the house?” she asked Mr. Banyon.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, there is not. It’s locked and the keys have become the property of the city of Phoenix. They will be given to whoever becomes the new owner tomorrow. Ms. McIntyre’s home is a rather nice one, but I can’t and won’t try to speculate as to who else might be interested.”

Nodding, she stood. “Well, I intend to do everything in my power to make sure I become the new owner tomorrow.”

“I know that’s what Ms. McIntyre would have wanted and I wish you the best.”

A few moments later after leaving Mr. Banyon’s office, Brittany punched Gloria McIntyre’s address into the car’s GPS system. The directions took her a few miles from the Phoenix city limits, to a beautiful area of sprawling valleys.

She turned off the main highway and entered a two-lane road lined by desert plants. When the GPS directed her down a long private road, she slowed her speed to take in the beauty of the area covered in sand and tumbleweeds. Although this was the first week of December, the sun was shining bright in the sky. When the private road rounded a curve at the end of the drive, she saw the house with a wrought-iron fence around its ten acres of land. With all the cacti and a backdrop of a valley almost in the backyard, the scene looked like a home on the range.

She stopped the car and a feeling of both joy and pain tightened her chest. This was the house her mother had lived in for over twenty years and was the house she had left to her.

Mr. Banyon was right. It was modestly sized but it sat on a lot of land. The windows were boarded up; otherwise, she would have been tempted to take a peek inside. Several large trees in the front yard provided shade.

Something about the house called out to her, mainly because she knew it was a gift from a woman whom she’d never met but with whom she had a connection nonetheless. A biological connection.

As she put her car in gear to drive away, she knew whatever it took, when she left the auction tomorrow, this house would be hers.

Chapter Three

Galen had never been one not to take advantage of golden opportunities. Plus, he’d discovered a fascination with the auction mart since the day he’d bid on his first old muscle car. Snagging another one cheap was what drew him to the newest Phoenix auction today.

In addition to the car auction going on, there were several other things up on the auction block. Foreclosed homes, jewelry, electronic equipment, music memorabilia and trading cards. None of those items interested him. All he wanted was that classic 1969 Chevelle he’d heard about. After which, he would return home and continue to work on Sniper, the video game SID planned to unveil at the Video Game Expo in Atlanta in the spring.

Right now the biggest thing on his, Eric and Wesley’s minds was the success of Turbine Force, the game they had debuted earlier that year. Because of an extremely good marketing campaign—thanks to his brother Jonas’s firm—at present Turbine Force was the number-one-selling video game this holiday season.

He slowed his pace when his cell phone went off and pulled it out of his back pocket. “Yes?”

“Where are you?”

Galen rolled his eyes. “If I wanted you to keep up with me, Eli, I would be tweeting on Twitter.”

“Funny. So where are you?”

Galen glanced at his watch. The auction for the Chevelle was starting in twenty minutes and he needed to be in place. “I’m at the auction mart. That Chevelle I was telling you about goes on the block today. What’s up?”

He engaged in all-about-nothing chitchat with his brother for all of five minutes. Eli was the attorney in the family and handled SID’s business concerns.

After putting away his cell phone, Galen headed toward the auction area. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. There was no telling how many car enthusiasts would be there waiting to buy and—

“Brittany Thrasher! I can’t believe it!”

“Nikki Cartwright! I can’t believe it, either.”

Galen couldn’t believe it, either, when the two women held their little reunion right in the middle of the floor and blocked the aisle. Anyone trying to maneuver around them had to squeeze by the huge decorated Christmas tree standing front and center.

He was about to follow the crowd and walk around the two when something about one of the women caught his attention. He slowed his pace and stared. He knew the one in the business suit. She was the woman whose cab he’d hijacked in New York six months ago. He’d recognize her anywhere, although now she was smiling instead of frowning.

Hell, he’d had a mental snapshot of her since that day. There were some things a man couldn’t forget and for him a gorgeous woman topped the list. At that moment a primitive instinct took hold of him and he drew in a deep breath, absorbed in the implication of what it meant. Whatever else, he was no fool. He knew the signs, fully understood the warning, but it was up to him if he wanted to heed them. Desire was a potent thing. Too much of it could get you into trouble.

He’d desired women before, hundreds of times. But there was something about this woman that was tempting him all the way to the bone.

He stepped out of the flow of the crowd and moved off to the side, feigning interest in the rack of brochures in front of him. As he pretended to read a brochure that listed over fifty Elvis items being auctioned, he listened to the women’s conversation. Okay, eavesdropping was rude, but hadn’t this same woman told him he needed to be taught manners?

He would consider it research. He wanted to know who she was and why was she here causing all sorts of crazy thoughts to go through his mind. He glanced over at her. She had tilted her head to the side while talking and he thought there was beauty in her neck, a gracefulness. And he liked the sound of her voice. Hell, he’d liked it that day in New York. He’d just been in too much of a rush to 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 all that land to build another one of our hotels. We just need to make sure no one else outbids us for it.”

Galen watched the men walk off. Evidently they wanted the same house Brittany would be bidding on. He shrugged, thinking it wasn’t any of his business. That was the nature of an auction and there was no reason for him to get involved. Then he released a short laugh. Who in the hell was he fooling? Even when she had been in New York he’d made her his business. Time just hadn’t lent itself for anything more than a confrontation between them.

He glanced at his watch before pulling his cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. The push of one button had his phone connected to Eli.

“What do you want, Galen?”

He smiled. Eli was the moody brother. Ready for chitchat one minute and a grouch the next. “I’m still here at the auction mart. I need you to fax me a loan approval letter with an open line of credit.”

“What do you think I am, your banker?” his brother snapped.

“Just work miracles and do it and stop whining.”

“Dammit, what’s the fax number?”

“How the hell do I know? Just look it up.” He quickly hung up the phone before Eli decided to get real ugly.

Galen made his way toward the auction area. Following the crowd, he wondered just when he’d begun rescuing damsels in distress. It was a disconcerting thought for a Steele, but in this case it was one he was looking forward to doing.

Chapter Four

Brittany 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?”

He nodded slowly and the gaze holding hers didn’t flinch or waver. It was steadfast and unmovable. “Yes, but on my terms, which includes living under my roof.”

Galen watched as she crossed her arms over her chest, just like she’d done that day in New York, reminding him what a nice pair of breasts they were. Standing this close to her again was calling his attention to a number of things about her that he’d missed that day. Like how her bottom lip would start quivering when she was angry or how her eyes would darken from a caramel to a deep, rich chocolate when things weren’t going her way. He wondered if that same transformation took place while she was in the bedroom making love.

Her eyes narrowed on him. “Mr. Steele, you’ve lost your mind. What you’re proposing is preposterous.”

“No, it’s not. It’s what I want and personally, I think it’s a rather good deal considering what you’ll be getting,” he pointed out. “In the end you’ll get what you want and I’ll get what I want.”

Fire leaped into her face and he actually got aroused watching it. He wondered if anyone ever told her how hot she looked when she was angry. “How can you even suggest such a thing? A decent man would never talk that way to a lady. How dare you.”

He chuckled again. “Yes, how dare me.”

“And why in the world would I want to live with you for a week? Give me one good reason.”

He shrugged. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you two. First, you want that house, so that should be incentive enough. Because it’s not, there’s the issue of what you said that day in New York about someone teaching me some manners.”

“Well, they should!”

“Then do it. I dare you. I dare you to stay with me for a week and teach me manners.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. And then he handed her his business card.

“You have only forty-eight hours to make your decision to contact me. If I don’t hear from you, then I will donate the house, the land and all its contents to charity. Goodbye, Ms. Thrasher.”

Then he walked off and didn’t look back.

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