Hidden Pleasures - Brenda Jackson [2]
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,