Hidden Pleasures. Brenda Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ