Glorious Enslavement. Anya RichardsЧитать онлайн книгу.

      1

      DOWNTOWN TRAFFIC had been worse than usual, so Brooke Weathers was later than she liked to be when she pulled her car into the West Houston High parking lot by the auditorium. Several teenagers gathered in clumps by the brick sign. It looked as though the South Pacific rehearsal had already finished.

      She scanned the clumps looking for her dark-haired sister and finally found her draped against a silver Porsche as she talked to the occupants.

      Some father had just had his midlife crisis, Brooke guessed, since the fancy car was out of the league of most of the students here.

      She lowered her window. “Courtney!” she called just as Courtney spotted her. Her sister straightened and gestured for Brooke to come closer.

      Talk about lazy. If Courtney could just be bothered to walk a few extra steps, then Brooke could exit now instead of being forced to drive the entire circuit of the parking lot. She shook her head, but Courtney beckoned again.

      It had been a long day, a day in which Brooke should have stayed an extra half hour at work and would have, if she hadn’t had to pick up Courtney. In spite of the two cars behind her, Brooke shook her head again and gestured back.

      Courtney was mad. She stormed over to the car, jerked open the door, then slammed it shut. “Why wouldn’t you come over there?”

      Brooke got in line for the traffic light. “I didn’t feel like driving all the way around the parking lot just because you were in diva mode.”

      Courtney jammed her shoulder belt into the clasp. “I only wanted you to meet Jeff’s brother.”

      “Who’s Jeff?”

      “You know, the guy who’s working on the sets. That was his brother’s car.” She gave Brooke a sideways look. “His single brother. I told him about you. He acted interested.”

      “Interested in one thing.”

      “Oh, come on Brooke! Lighten up and maybe you could go out with him.”

      “Go out with him?” Brooke crossed her fingers in a warding-off-evil-spirits sign. “An older single man with a Porsche? Have I taught you nothing?”

      “Yeah, how to spend weekends cleaning the house, then rewarding ourselves with microwave popcorn and a video. Whoopee.”

      Brooke actually looked forward to Saturday nights with her sister. “You’re not dateless every Saturday.”

      “You are,” Courtney said quietly.

      “I’m too tired to date!” Brooke laughed.

      Courtney didn’t. “I really wish you’d meet Jeff’s brother.”

      “Thanks, but no thanks.”

      The last thing Brooke needed right now was first-date stress, followed by will-he-call stress, and if he did call, and she did start going out with him, the should-I-or-shouldn’t-I stress. With Courtney watching her every move, it was darn well going to be shouldn’t. Besides, most men didn’t understand why a single woman in her twenties had a self-imposed midnight curfew. But Brooke couldn’t apply one set of rules to her dating life and another to Courtney’s even though Courtney was still in high school. Brooke shuddered just imagining the arguments. It wasn’t worth it.

      What would be worth it was the satisfaction she’d feel when she got Courtney into a good college.

      Then Brooke could enter the dating scene.

      Until then, she didn’t need the stress.

      “YA GOTTA MEET HER, MAN,” Jeff insisted. “If she’s anything like Courtney, she’s hot.”

      Chase Davenport gave his brother a long look, then flicked on his turn signal.

      “I mean hot in a good way,” Jeff tried to explain. “A classy way. Yeah. Classical hot.” He dug in his backpack and withdrew a piece of crumpled notebook paper. “Here’s her phone number.”

      “No thanks,” Chase said. “I can find my own women.”

      “For a guy who drives a serious chick magnet like this, you aren’t doing such a good job.” Jeff picked up Chase’s cell phone.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Programing in Courtney’s number in case you change your mind.”

      Chase didn’t bother to object. He could always erase it later. “I was surprised to hear that you were on the stage crew. I didn’t know you were interested in that kind of thing.” Chase supposed he should be thankful that Jeff was finally showing interest in something, but he never would have guessed it would be the school musical.

      “Oh, yeah. It’s cool.”

      “Is that how you met Courtney?”

      “Everybody knows Courtney,” he said.

      Chase was beginning to get the picture. Jeff was more interested in this Courtney than he was in the play. He thought back to the girl he’d just met. She was pretty, in a drama student way. She’d had on a bright red sweater and lips to match and long silver earrings that had brushed against her cheeks when she talked. No one could accuse her of being the mousy type, which Chase would have figured more as Jeff’s style.

      Chase smiled to himself as Jeff went on about lights and computer programs and the sets he was going to help build. This Courtney had high-maintenance written all over her. Jeff might as well learn about high-maintenance women now when he had time for them, because he sure wouldn’t have time when he started college in the fall.

      And, as Chase had discovered, he wouldn’t have time for them when he was trying to establish a career, either.

      Chase, himself, didn’t even have time for low-maintenance women. But that was all right. Contrary to popular belief, he’d discovered there were actually no maintenance women out there—women who agreed that work took precedence for now.

      Chase downshifted for the approaching traffic light. The problems started when casual became not-so-casual. That’s when the expectations started. And, Chase had to admit, he’d been guilty of changing the terms of a relationship a