Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)

Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)

Lisa Renee Jones





DEDICATION


Suzanne Todd is not only an award-winning, acclaimed producer of some of the most renowned movies ever made but she’s also a skilled poker player who’s claimed her spot in the World Series, and who still manages to be so very generous with her advice and time. Suzanne’s insight into the professional poker circuits was invaluable when writing this book.

Thank you, Suzanne!





Dear Readers:


I am so very excited to share Behind Closed Doors with you. This is a bit of a lighter read than most of my books, with a stand-alone happily-ever-after ending, while most of my books are sagas, with many parts. This was a fun departure from my normal dark and gritty writing, and I hope you enjoy it.

For those of you who have read the Inside Out and/or Careless Whispers series, you will get a glimpse into Ella’s secrets. For those of you who have not read those series, no worries! This story stands alone.

A note to my readers waiting for the release of Surrender, the final scheduled book for Careless Whispers: Behind Closed Doors is absolutely the calm before the storm, with a few clues to Ella’s past to tide you over until Surrender. Be prepared: Surrender is by far the darkest, most intense book I have ever written. And for my Inside Out fans, Chris and Sara will cross paths with Ella in Surrender, with danger in their paths.

I hope you enjoy Behind Closed Doors!

Lisa





CHAPTER ONE


“BID. BID ON this one, Skye.”

“They haven’t even opened the doors for us to see inside,” I say, glowering at my new friend Ella and wondering why I let her obsession with Storage Wars lead me to a real-life auction. Or maybe I do know. She isn’t easy to say no to, but due to my limited finances, I have no choice but to be cautious with my bidding.

She balls a fist at her belly. “My gut says this one is for you.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re too dramatic and I don’t bid on gut instinct. I’m a calculated buyer, not a spontaneous one.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spontaneous,” she insists, her words as bold as her long red hair, while mine is a basic brown that fits my far more reserved personality. “You haven’t bid on anything,” she continues, pressing, “and I bought a unit that looks great and I did it by being spontaneous. This is the last unit of the day, Skye, and there’s not another auction in San Francisco until next month.”

“That’s not a good reason to bid,” I argue.

“A chance to make a profit is, though,” she counters, and I glance up to find the thirty-something man in a cowboy hat who’s been ogling me like I’m up for auction towering over Ella from behind to stare at me. The smirk under his dark mustache says he’s enjoying our argument a little too much.

Grabbing Ella’s hand, I pull her down the hallway of the climate-controlled indoor facility and away from the crowd of bidders that has now dwindled to about twenty. “If I don’t get a unit, I don’t get a unit,” I whisper.

She plants her hands on her hips and doesn’t soften her voice, proving she is as feisty as her red hair promises. “You’re just scared. You have to have courage. Remember your goal—the whole reason you wanted to come with me. You want to save money and get out of that secretary’s chair and into law school.”

She’s right. I do, and a shortcut to get there would be nice, but that just isn’t how life works for me. “I’m waiting tables on the weekends to save money,” I remind her. “My tips are exceptional. I’m fine.”

“You’ll be ancient when you get into law school, at the rate you’re going.”

“By my calculations, I have to save for two more years and then I’ll have three years of school.”

“Like I said. Ancient.”

“Thirty is not ancient,” I say, though she’s hit a nerve. Life is passing me by and I’m ready to live it, not survive it.

“I was teasing about that, but you want to start a career sooner if you can. You can cut that down by a year and a half if you make auction hunting work.”

This is what I get for making friends in yoga class, which I started in order to curb the stress of working for an attorney who excels at being an * as much as he does at winning in the courtroom, not to create more stress. “Well, you know,” I say, lacing my words with the sarcasm I learned from my boss, “I guess we brunettes aren’t born with balls like you redheads. I’m playing it safe. If I don’t like how the unit looks when they open the doors, I’m not bidding.”

As if on cue, the door to the unit is lifted and a look of scary determination flits across Ella’s face. “Don’t worry, Skye honey. My balls are big enough for both of us. I have a feeling about this unit. I’ll buy it and give it to you.” She turns and disappears into the crowd, pushing and shoving her way to the front of the group despite loud protests. I gape. I only just met her two weekends ago when she talked me into doing Storage Treasures online training for this, and good grief, somehow I haven’t even asked what she does for a living. She must need money or she wouldn’t be here. And even if she doesn’t, I can’t let her spend money on me. No. No way. That’s not going to happen. And I might not know her well, but I can already see her in my mind, handing me a key to the unit and telling me I’ll be wasting her money if I don’t turn it around.