Читать книгу Hidden Pleasures - Brenda Jackson - Страница 10

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.