LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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