With This Ring
Lee McKenzie
Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas…In July?Brent Borden has always imagined that Leslie Durrance is happy on her pedestal. Until she runs–in the midst of a rainstorm, dripping diamonds, wedding dress and all–into the construction worker's arms. With the whole town buzzing about the juiciest scandal Collingwood Station has ever seen, the embarrassed debutante needs to lie low.Brent takes her in, but it's a Christmas-themed fund-raiser, complete with hot Santas in tuxedos, that gives Leslie a chance to get the tongues wagging about something besides her almost-wedding and get the wallets to open for a worthy cause. And also makes her see that the greatest gift has been in front of her all along…
With This Ring
Lee McKenzie
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Brent Borden pulled his flatbed truck onto the quiet, tree-lined street. The road was not a direct route from the lumberyard to the construction site—far from it—and he’d be the first to admit that he’d driven by the church on purpose. According to the clock on the dashboard, the ceremony would start any minute, so he couldn’t have said exactly what he was looking for. Closure, maybe. But he sure as hell never expected to see the bride running down the sidewalk.
Barefoot.
In the rain.
Away from the church.
He eased off the accelerator and peered through the blurred windshield. It was Leslie, all right. So he did what anyone would have done. He pulled over, leaned across the cab and wound down the window.
“Need a ride?”
FOR THE first time in her life, Leslie Durrance had no idea where she was going and, furthermore, she didn’t care. Anything would be better than what she had just left behind. Except maybe this. She had no intention of accepting help from a free-and-easy construction worker who also happened to be her brother’s best friend and, quite possibly, the most annoying man in the world.
“Hey, need a ride?” he asked again.
She slowed her pace but kept moving. “No, thank you.”
“Are you lost?”
She hitched the soggy skirt of the satin and lace Armani gown a little higher and shook her head.
“I see.” His truck inched along beside her. “Do you know you’re going in the wrong direction?”
She stopped then and glared at him through the partly open window. “I know exactly what I’m doing and where I’m going.”
He braked. “So you don’t need a lift?”
She wanted to say no, but the inside of his truck looked very inviting. Warm and dry, and just about the last place anyone in Collingwood Station would look for her.
As though he sensed her hesitation, he leaned across the cab and opened the door. “Hop in.”
What choice did she have? It wouldn’t be long before someone came looking for her, and looking for answers.
She hiked up her dress and climbed into the truck.
“Where to?” Brent’s voice held a hint of concern but he seemed surprisingly nonplussed by the ridiculousness of the situation.
Where could she go? Not to her town house, or to her mother’s house. Those would be the first two places people would look for her. Her office building was closed on Saturdays and she didn’t have the keys with her. She was too mortified to go to any of her friends for help. Besides, they were all still inside the church. A hotel? Not without some cash and a credit card.
She had no plan and no place to go, and some crazy twist of fate had landed her in the cab of a truck with a man she’d rejected more times than she could count.
“Why did you stop?” she asked. “After all the things I’ve said to you over the years, it wouldn’t have surprised me if you’d just driven by.”
The wounded look that flickered in his eyes was one she’d seen before. “You really think that little of me?” he asked, running his hand through his dark wavy hair that was, as it always had been, just a tad too long to be manageable.
She lowered her gaze and realized she was still clutching the stupid shoes she’d taken off so she could run faster. “No. Right now, that’s how little I think of myself.”
He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he reached behind the seat and pulled out a jean jacket. “You must be cold. Lean forward a bit.”
She was too numb to feel anything, but she couldn’t stop shivering, so he was probably right.
He draped the faded denim around her shoulders and she snuggled into it.
The workmanlike scent of sawdust was oddly comforting. “Do you think we could just drive around for a while till I figure out what to do?” This morning she’d thought this New England summer storm might ruin her wedding. Now it was the least of her worries.
“You’re soaking wet and you want drive around town with a truckload of lumber?”
No. She wanted to crawl under a rock and die. She turned to face him and his eyes softened immediately.
“How ’bout we go to my place?” he suggested.
Nice try, she thought. “You can’t be serious.”
“This isn’t high school, Leslie. I’m not going to make a pass at you. You can get dried off and warmed up, and take all the time you need to figure out what you want to do. But if you have a better idea—”
She felt like an idiot. He was being very sweet about this, a lot sweeter than she deserved. “Thank you. Your place will be fine.”
SLOWLY MANEUVERING the oversized truck through town gave him the opportunity to glance at her from time to time. “You want to talk about what happened?”
“No.”
“Okay. I wasn’t trying to pry or anything. Just thought you might want to—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Got it. I live across town. We’ll be there in five minutes or so.”
They made the drive in silence, during which he was acutely aware of the change from the stately old residences that surrounded the church to the much smaller and often rundown houses in his neighborhood. The drive also gave him time to ponder this unexpected turn of events. Whatever it was that had made her run, it had to be serious. Leslie Durrance didn’t do things like this. For as long as he’d known her, which had been pretty much his whole life, he couldn’t ever remember her doing anything impulsive. She’d been on the honor roll and the student council. Then she’d gone to college and law school, just like everyone knew she would. She’d been the prettiest girl in school and he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been completely crazy about her.
He’d always known the two of them would never work. Why would she settle for him when she could have any guy she set her sights on? She was from a wealthy, prominent family. He’d been raised by his mother in subsidized housing. A quick sideways glance assured him nothing had changed. She wore a necklace and earrings that had more diamonds than he’d ever seen outside a jewelry store. He stole a second look. Her engagement ring must have cost as much as he earned in two years. Maybe more.
He pulled the truck into his driveway, shut off the engine and turned to face her. “Here we are.”
She sat motionless, as though she might be having second thoughts. He could hardly blame her.
“Sit tight. I’ll come around and get the door for you.” If anything, the rain was coming down even harder than when he’d picked her up by the church. He jogged around the front of the truck and by the time he got to her door, his T-shirt was soaking wet. He opened the door and offered her a hand while being careful to keep his distance.
She placed her small, slender hand into his. For once she seemed willing to accept a little help without putting up a fight.
“You’re freezing,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
She was still clutching her shoes in her free hand but she managed to gather up the skirt of the wedding gown and step out of the truck. He should probably offer to take the shoes from her, but he sensed she’d only let him do so much before she let him have it.
“Ow!” She stumbled slightly when her bare feet touched the gravel.
Without giving her a chance to protest, he swung her off the ground and headed for the shelter of the veranda. With one arm supporting her shoulders and the other hooked behind her knees, he fumbled with the keys and finally found the lock.
“Brent?”
He looked down into her wide brown eyes and his hand froze on the knob. “What?”
“Put me down,” she whispered. “Please.” Her voice caught on the last word and came out in a little sob.
He set her down immediately. “Sorry. I was just trying to help.”
It sounded too lame to be the truth, even though it was. The wariness in Leslie’s eyes didn’t fade and he knew what she was thinking.
Smooth move, Borden. Since when did carrying another man’s bride across your threshold qualify as helpful?
LESLIE hadn’t given any thought to where Brent lived but she never would have predicted an old cottage that had been so carefully restored. She stopped inside the front door and looked around.
He came up behind her and she felt his hand on her back. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head. “What a charming little house.”
“You sound surprised.” He sounded offended.
“I just meant that it’s charming and it’s been beautifully restored and—” Hmm. Given that he worked for her brother’s construction company, he’d probably done the work himself. Still, the house seemed out of character for the Brent Borden she used to know, which suggested he probably hadn’t done this alone. “Did someone help you with it?”
He guided her into the entryway and closed the door. “You think I can’t fix up a house without a woman’s help?”
This was not going well. “I’m sorry.” How many times had she said that since he’d picked her up? “I’m not thinking too clearly. All I wanted to say is that you’ve done a great job. So, you live here alone?”
“No.”
Her brother had mentioned recently that Brent wasn’t married, but it made sense that someone as offhandedly charming and, let’s face it, downright sexy as Brent would have a woman in his life. Maybe even the one she’d seen him with at Donaldson’s Deli, not long after she’d moved back to Connecticut. Her stomach gave an odd little lurch.
“She won’t mind you bringing me here?” Stupid question. How many women would be happy to have their partner bring home a fugitive bride?
He eased around her, which brought him even closer. “I guess I could have called and left a message, but I’m pretty much used to doing whatever I want.”
More than anything, Leslie wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but the way he handled his relationship was none of her business. “Some things never change.”
He did a mini eye roll. “You got that right. But you’re here now so you might as well come in and meet Max.”
Max? Unusual name for a woman.
Brent kicked off his boots and walked across the living room and through the kitchen.
Leslie waited by the front door, not sure if she should venture farther until she knew what Max’s reaction would be. Besides, her dress was making a puddle on the floor and she didn’t want to make an even bigger mess of the gleaming hardwood.
A door opened and closed and that was followed by the sound of skittering on linoleum and by Brent’s voice. “Hey, boy, glad to see me? Come on. Yeah, good boy. Come on. Somebody wants to meet you.”
Max was a dog. And a boy dog at that. Brent had rescued her from an impossible situation and brought her here until she could figure out what to do next, and she’d insulted him and made herself look even more foolish. What was it about this man that brought out the worst in her?
No, that wasn’t fair. That made it sound as though this was his fault, and it wasn’t. A better question was, why did she still overreact to everything he said?
Before she could figure out the answer, a huge gray and white sheepdog bounded across the living room, heading straight for her.
“Max! Down!”
Max planted his front paws on the floor and skidded to stop in front of her, his entire back end wagging. He gazed at her through a shaggy curtain of fur.
“Max, sit.”
The dog’s ears perked up and he glanced back at his master as if checking to see if he really meant what he said.
“Sit.”
Max slowly lowered his wagging haunches to the floor.
Leslie patted his head. “Good boy.”
Humor sparkled in Brent’s eyes. “He doesn’t always behave but what he lacks in manners, he makes up for with enthusiasm.”
That makes two of you, she thought, but resisted the urge to say it out loud. After the way Brent had rescued her this morning, that would be unfair.
And at least Max hadn’t turned out to be the woman she’d seen him with at the deli. She’d seemed a little young for Brent, anyway. They had been sitting at a table that Saturday morning, his arm draped across the back of her chair. They were leaning close and gazing into each other’s eyes, and then she’d dipped her finger into the foam of her cappuccino and offered it to him. From the way he looked at her and took her finger into his mouth, it was obvious the two of them had spent the night together.
Brent hadn’t seen Leslie, so she’d quickly moved to the counter, her back toward him. After she’d made her purchase and chatted briefly with old Mr. Donaldson, she turned away from the counter and caught Brent watching her. His smile had been a combination of surprise and his old good-natured, happy-to-see-you charm. She’d given him a brief nod in return and hurried out of the shop. In high school she’d had to spend a certain amount of time with him because he was her brother’s best friend. This was no longer high school, and she was glad to see that he’d found someone to be with.
Half an hour later she’d finished shopping and was loading her purchases into the trunk of her car when she saw Brent helping Cappuccino Girl into his old blue and white truck. His hand had curled over her butt and lingered just a little too long.
Leslie withdrew her hand from the coarse, wiry fur on Max’s head and pulled the denim jacket more snugly around her shoulders as she shivered.
“You must be freezing,” Brent said. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
She glanced at him warily.
He rolled his eyes again but didn’t comment on her reaction. “Maybe a hot bath while I see if I can find some dry clothes that will fit you?”
“A hot bath would be wonderful.” She set her shoes on the floor and was again aware of the puddle that her dripping dress had made. “Look at this mess. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s just water,” Brent said. “I’ll wipe it up, if Max doesn’t get to it first. The bathroom’s through here.”
Max leaped to his feet and trotted next to him, through an archway that led to a small space that couldn’t really be called a hallway, since it was only as long as it was wide.
Leslie followed, noticing for the first time just how tall and broad shouldered Brent was.
Most of the tiny bathroom was taken up by the biggest claw-foot tub she’d ever seen. She could hardly wait to get out of the cold, wet dress and into a tubful of hot water.
“There’s a shower if you’d prefer that.” He indicated the curtain suspended from a brass rail over the tub.
She shook her head.
Without a word, he inserted a plug in the drain and turned on the taps.
Max settled himself on the bath mat.
“Help yourself to towels,” Brent said, pointing to a wall shelf, “and anything else you need. I’ll see what I can find for you to wear.”
“Thank you.” She hoped he meant something of his because she would die of embarrassment if he produced another woman’s clothing.
Once he was out of the room, she slipped his jacket off her shoulders and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. The cool air raised goose bumps on her arms and shoulders.
Shivering almost uncontrollably, she stretched one arm over her shoulder to unzip the back of her dress. It was just out of reach. She extended her other arm around her back and still couldn’t unfasten it. Getting into the thing hadn’t been a problem because Allison and Candice, her bridesmaids, had been there to help. At least, Allison had helped. Candice, not so much.
An inviting cloud of steam rose from the water in the tub. Maybe she should just climb in, dress and all. Or find a pair of scissors and cut her way out of the damn thing. The very idea sent a giggle rising up her throat. Not even in her current state could she destroy such a beautiful and expensive gown.
Max’s dark, soulful eyes stared up at her.
“Whatever you do, don’t ever get married.”
“Excuse me?” Brent stood in the doorway.
“Sorry. I was talking to Max.”
“Ah, I see. I don’t think there’s much danger of him doing anything rash. He and I have already had that talk, and besides…” Brent shielded his mouth with one hand and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “He’s been fixed.”
She refused to let herself be baited again. “You’ll have to give me the name of his surgeon. I know someone who would benefit from that procedure.”
“Ouch. I’ll have to be careful to stay on your good side.”
“Good plan.”
“All right, then.” He handed her a pair of gray sweatpants, a long-sleeved blue T-shirt and a thick pair of black cotton socks. “This is the best I can do. The pants have a drawstring,” he said, glancing at her waist. He stepped closer and she quickly backed away, narrowly missing Max’s paw.
Brent leaned over the tub and turned off the taps.
“I can look after that,” she said.
His sharp glance had her wishing, yet again, that she could stop overreacting. “I’m sorry. I appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“No trouble. While you’re in the bath, I’ll run out and pick up some more clothes for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can—” She paused. She could do what? Go back to her town house and deal with Gerald and her mother? No way. “Thank you. But please keep the receipts and I’ll pay you back.”
He gave her an odd look. “I wasn’t planning to go shopping. My mother collects clothing for the homeless shelter, so she always has things on hand. Everything will be secondhand, but it’ll be clean and mended.”
“Oh.”
“Unless that’s not going to work for you.”
What he meant was, unless that’s not good enough for you. She could hardly blame him for having such a low opinion of her.
She squared her shoulders and wished she could stop shivering. “Since I’m temporarily homeless, that’ll work just fine. Please thank your mother for me. When my life gets backs to normal, I’ll have the clothes dry-cleaned and return them.” Under the circumstances, it was the least she could do.
“I’ll be sure to tell her.” He looked as though he’d like to say more. Whatever it was, she was glad he kept it to himself. She was on the verge of tears again, and the last thing she wanted was for him to try to console her.
He fished his keys from his pocket, and Max jumped up right away. “Sorry, boy, not this time. You stay here with Leslie.”
The dog’s tail-wagging—assuming there was a tail under all that fur—subsided only slightly as he looked from Brent to her and back again.
“You can take him with you. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will be. Still, I’ll leave him here. He’ll let you know if anyone comes to the door and he’ll keep barking until they leave. You won’t have to bother answering, and you’ll know when they’re gone.”
“Are you expecting someone?” Since she was absolutely certain that no one would come here looking for her, she could only assume that Brent didn’t want any of his potential visitors to know she was here.
“No one in particular. Your brother’s been known to show up, though, and I just thought that given what’s happened…”
Of course. That possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “Good thinking. I don’t want to see anyone right now.” Especially not her family.
“I don’t get a lot of company, so it looks like you’ve come to the right place.”
She looked longingly at the steam rising from the tub. “Thanks again,” she said, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. “I really do appreciate this.”
“You’re freezing. I’ll get out of your way.” He was out the door before she remembered the zipper.
“Brent?”
He looked back. “Yeah?”
She turned sideways and pointed over her shoulder. “Um…I can’t reach the zipper. Would you mind?”
He looked as though he’d rather wrestle a grizzly bear, but he slowly stepped back into the room. “Turn around,” he said gruffly.
She complied and stood stock-still. The day had been filled with unexpected situations. What was one more?
Firm fingers brushed her skin. She closed her eyes, as if that might somehow block out his touch. No such luck.
The length of time it took him to undo the hook-and-eye closure at the top of the zipper was proof that the tiny device had not been designed for big workman’s hands. When it finally gave way, his breath came out in a rush, as if he’d been holding it, and sent a delicious shower of warm air down the back of her neck.
The zipper gave him no trouble at all and when it neared her waist, he let go all of a sudden and backed away. “You can manage the rest.” And then he was gone.
Startled, Leslie opened her eyes.
The front door opened and banged shut.
Max’s ears perked up and he dashed out of the room.
For a few seconds she’d actually forgotten where she was, and who was undressing her. No, that wasn’t the truth. Every heightened nerve ending and every inch of chilled skin had been perfectly well aware of who was doing the undressing. Careful, she warned herself. That’s one place you never wanted to go, and now is not the time to consider it.
She had every intention of having a quick bath and being dressed by the time Brent returned, but just to be safe she closed the bathroom door and turned the lock.
She shimmied out of the dress and let it fall to the floor. The air against her damp skin made her shiver. She quickly unfastened her wet bra and dropped it onto the dress. She tried to slide her panties down her legs. The damp fabric stuck to her thighs but she finally managed to roll them off.
She stepped into the bath and lowered herself into the water, gasping slightly as her cold skin adjusted to the warmth. Then she rested her head against the back of the tub and closed her eyes. The dangling, diamond-studded strands of her earrings grazed her shoulders. She slipped them off and reached for the clasp of the necklace. The jewelry had been a wedding gift from Gerald. She reached over the edge of the tub and tossed them onto the dress.
She slid deeper into the tub, hot water swooshing around her shoulders. She wanted to be furious with Gerald, but she was having trouble mustering any real anger. Loathing. Disgust. Definitely those. As the wedding date had drawn closer, she’d started to feel antsy and unsure of herself. She didn’t believe in premonitions, but maybe her subconscious had been picking up things that she hadn’t wanted—or even been ready—to acknowledge.
Things like what a two-timing, no-good son of a bitch she’d almost married. Luckily she’d found out about his affair before the ceremony and not afterward.
She was even grateful for the bizarre twist of fate that had landed her here. Brent’s timely rescue had bought her some precious time. No one knew where she was, and when she finally did see her family and her good-for-nothing slimeball of an ex-fiancé, it would be on her terms.
By now Gerald would have figured out that she’d seen him with another woman. And not just any woman, but one of her bridesmaids, one of her best friends. Meanwhile he’d be trying to convince everyone that today’s disastrous events had been her fault.
She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the image of the two of them in the back of the coat room at the church.
A big, fat tear rolled down her cheek. You will not cry, she told herself. Gerald Bedford III and Candice Bentley-Ferguson deserved each other. Not only were they cut from the same bolt, they’d each chosen someone who was bound to cheat on them.
Leslie opened her eyes and reached for a bar of soap. The ring on her left hand sparkled.
Damn it.
It was a gorgeous ring. She’d been the envy of everyone she knew, and probably lots she didn’t. When Gerald had given it to her, it had represented everything that was right about their relationship. They were young successful professionals with brilliant futures. They had everything going for them.
Why wasn’t that enough? Better question. Why wasn’t she good enough for him?
In spite of her best efforts to hold the tears at bay, her eyes filled up and the room blurred. Today she was supposed to cross number five off her Life List. She slid the ring off her finger and tossed it into the soap dish. She’d earned the right to a little self-pity, as long as she got herself under control before Brent came home with her hand-me-downs.
BRENT SLAMMED the gear shift into Reverse and backed out of the driveway as fast as a ton of lumber would allow. Leslie probably thought he was a lunatic for tearing out on her like that, but he’d had a hard-on that would stop a train and there had only been two possible outcomes.
Either he’d do something he’d regret, or he’d get the hell out of there before he did something he’d regret.
The feel of her skin, the scent of her damp, sweet-smelling hair and the sight of her lacy white bra were now branded into his brain, and still had his libido on full alert. Which might account for his uncharacteristically bad driving, although it would make a lousy defense if he crashed into someone. He eased off the accelerator and brought the truck to a stop at a red light, chiding himself for being such an idiot.
She’d always made it abundantly and sometimes scathingly clear she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. In the seventh grade, at Candice Bentley’s birthday party, he’d finagled his way into playing seven minutes in heaven with her. That kiss had lasted somewhere in the neighborhood of four seconds.
Leslie had been a little slip of a girl in those days but she’d packed a mighty wallop.
Undaunted, he’d pursued her through high school. It had actually turned into a game, and he’d always been the loser.
He would ask her out. She’d say no.
He’d call her. She’d hang up.
He’d tuck a note into her locker. She’d scrunch it into a ball and toss it in the trash.
A horn honking behind him told him the light had turned green. He was glad to have an excuse to get away from her for a while. Too bad it meant going to his mother’s place though. She would question his sudden need for women’s clothing, and he’d never been any good at flying under her radar.
Maybe she wouldn’t be home, he thought. He could just help himself to whatever he could find and she’d be none the wiser. He pulled up along the curb and spotted her ancient Dodge station wagon in the driveway. No such luck.
He sprinted through the rain to the back door and let himself in. “Mom? You home?”
“In here, dear. What brings you by this morning?”
He followed his nose into the kitchen. She was making chicken stew. “It’s almost lunchtime. And since when do I need a reason to visit the most gorgeous woman in Collingwood Station?”
“Since you’re blocking the street with a truckload of building materials and trying to use that sweet talk on someone who knows better than to fall for it.”
“We were supposed to start a new job on Monday. I have to deliver that load to the site sometime today, so I won’t be here for long.” He crossed the kitchen and planted a kiss on the top of her head.
“What do you mean by ‘supposed to’?” she asked.
“I might be tied up with something else for a few days.” He reached over her shoulder and snagged a piece of raw carrot from the pile on the chopping block.
“Watch it, young man, or you might lose one of those fingers.”
He laughed. “I’ll take my chances. Are you expecting company?” he asked. If the size of the stewpot was anything to go by, she was cooking for a crowd.
“I thought I’d make enough for a meal or two for myself and take the rest to the shelter. They’re a little short on food this weekend.”
At this rate she’d never be able to retire, but talking to her about it was a losing battle. She’d carry the weight of the whole world on her shoulders if anyone asked her to. His mother was younger than most of the mothers of his friends, but she often looked tired and older than she actually was. Today was one of those days.
She’d become a single parent at sixteen and had struggled through a lot of hardship. He remembered her helping him with homework while she studied and worked to put herself through college. Nothing had changed when she became a social worker. In spite of an ample salary, she still lived in the little old house she’d purchased twenty years ago, and somehow she managed to keep her geriatric Dodge running. Every spare penny went to help those who were less fortunate than she was.
She tossed handfuls of diced carrots and celery into the pot and started on the potatoes. “So, you haven’t told me what brings you by.”
He might as well cut to the chase. “I need to borrow a few things.”
“What would you like? And don’t tell me it’s take-out chicken stew. If you want any of that, you’ll have to come back and have dinner with me.”
“Sorry. No can do.”
“Your loss.” She gave him one of her big, warm smiles. “So if it’s not food, what are you after?”
“I need some women’s clothing. Enough for a few days. Size four,” he said. “If you have anything.”
She set her knife on the butcher block and wiped her hands on a towel as she turned to face him.
“That’s an odd request.”
“Not really. A friend of mine is in kind of a jam and she needs a few things. Just temporarily, until…”
His explanation trailed off as his mother’s scrutiny intensified.
“Please tell me this friend of yours isn’t Leslie Durrance.”
Damn, she was good.
Chapter Two
“Why would you ask that?” As soon as he said it, he knew his evasiveness sounded like a yes.
And his mother’s eagle eye never missed a trick. “I stopped by Donaldson’s Deli to pick up the day-old bread that Mr. Donaldson donates to the shelter. The place was buzzing. Apparently she bolted and left Gerald whatshis-name at the altar.”
“Man, what is it with this town and gossip?”
“You haven’t answered my question, and that usually means—”
“Okay, fine. She’s at my place,” he confessed. Yes, at that very moment Leslie Durrance was in his bathtub. Naked and single. “And she has nothing to wear but a soaking-wet wedding dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes.”
“Do I even dare ask how she ended up with you?”
“I was driving by the church—”
“Oh, Brent. You can’t be serious.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might be able to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. I thought you were over her years ago but even if you’re not, why torture yourself by driving by the church on her wedding day?”
He hated it when she looked at him like he was one of her homeless people. He didn’t want her to be concerned about him. He should be taking care of her for a change. “Under the circumstances it’s a good thing I showed up when I did.”
“Because?”
“She needed help.”
His mother let out a long sigh. “She’s a millionaire, Brent. She can buy anything she wants, when she wants it, without asking how much it costs. Why would she need your help?”
The sparkle of that enormous diamond ring flashed in his memory. “Well, she didn’t have her purse with her.”
His mother burst out laughing. “You dear, sweet boy. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my Prince Charming would race to her rescue.”
“It’s not like that, Mom. She hasn’t told me what happened, but I know Leslie. She wouldn’t run out on her wedding unless something really bad had happened. I get the feeling she wants to lie low for a couple of days and there’s no way she can do that in Collingwood Station, money or no money, without a little help from someone.”
She rested her hand against the side of his face. “And that someone had to be you. At the very least, I hope she appreciates this. And who knows, maybe she’ll come to her senses and realize she couldn’t possibly do any better.”
Yeah, that should happen right around the time money started to grow on trees. He covered her hand with his. “I wouldn’t count on that. Besides, like I said, that’s not what this is about. She’s in a tight spot and I was there to help.”
“Still, I can’t help wondering if your timing was good or bad.”
When he didn’t respond, she sighed again. “There’s always a first time for everything and this is definitely the first time I’ve had to provide clothing for a homeless millionaire, but you’re in luck. I just finished cleaning and mending all the clothes that were donated this month. I was going to take them into the shelter on Monday.”
“She said she’ll have everything cleaned and return it.”
“How generous.”
“Come on, Mom. It’s not her fault that people are homeless.”
“Whose fault is it?”
Here we go, he thought. Once she climbed on her soapbox, he knew better than to argue. “If I ask, I’m sure she’ll make a donation, too.”
“Too bad you have to ask.”
All righty then. “She’s not a bad person, Mom.”
“She is if she breaks your heart again.” She turned back to her food preparation. “The clothes are on the bed in your old room. I sorted them into piles by size, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding something that’ll fit her.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate this. So does Leslie.”
He didn’t get a response, so he headed up the stairs.
This old house held a lot of memories. Good ones. The door to his old room creaked when he opened it. He’d been on his own for a lot of years so it surprised him that his mother had never reclaimed this space. His baseball trophies were still lined up on the dresser and an old Reggie Jackson poster was tacked to the closet door.
The clothing for the homeless shelter had been carefully arranged in piles on the bed. He picked through the small-sized women’s clothing and chose a pair of jeans that looked as though they should fit her, a pair of faded yellow shorts and a couple of T-shirts. The pink one looked great, actually. In high school she’d had an undetermined number of sweaters in every shade of pink imaginable, and every single one of them had suited her perfectly. He hadn’t thought of it in years but if anyone had a signature color, Leslie did. And it was pink.
He’d never forgotten how beautiful she’d looked the night of his senior prom. Had she been wearing pink that night? Probably. Technically it hadn’t been her prom, since she’d been in her junior year, but she was on the student council, which apparently meant she was on the prom committee, too. He’d asked her to be his date and of course she’d said no, so he’d gone solo in a futile attempt to prove a point. Undaunted, he’d waited and watched until finally, near the end of the night, she’d been sitting alone at her table and the band was playing a slow song. He’d asked her to dance and in a moment of apparent weakness, she’d accepted.
Aside from that stolen adolescent kiss in her friend’s closet, that dance had been the only other time he’d ever touched her, and he’d never forgotten it. That time their kiss had lasted significantly longer and had been a whole lot sweeter. The instant the song ended she’d pulled herself away and marched off the dance floor, but at least that time she hadn’t slugged him.
He gave his head a shake in an attempt to dispel the memories and surveyed the rest of the clothing piled on the bed. There was an assortment of undergarments, which he quickly ruled out as being way too personal, but he added a nightgown to the things he’d already chosen. He unfolded a sleeveless red dress that looked like something a hooker might wear and quickly put it back.
After bundling the clothes under his arm, he took one last look around. A pile of stuffed animals on the desk caught his eye. They must be for the shelter, too, because he didn’t recognize any of them. He picked up a toy dog and put it down, then examined a small brown teddy bear.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The clothes he’d chosen were the best he could find, but they weren’t good enough for Leslie. Not because she was a millionaire, but because she was special. She deserved the best. Like his mother did.
He closed the door and clattered down the narrow staircase.
“Find what you need?” his mother asked, apparently back to her usual good-natured self.
The mouthwatering aroma of his favorite dinner filled the room. “Yeah, thanks. This should be fine.” He hoped.
His mother gave the pot a stir, then set her wooden spoon on a spoon rest next to the stove. “Let me find a bag for those things.”
She returned from the back porch with a canvas shopping bag and held it open for him. Her eyebrows arched into a silent question when she spied the bear.
He responded with a silent challenge of his own.
“Those toys are for the shelter, too. We do get children from time to time.”
“I thought it might make her feel better.” No, that wasn’t true. He had no idea how she would react to it, but he’d feel better if it distracted her attention from the shabby clothing he’d found for her. He handed the toy to his mother. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
She set the bear on the kitchen table. “Does she need shoes?”
He dumped the clothes into the bag and tucked it under his arm. Geez, he hadn’t thought about shoes, but of course she needed some. Those crazy high heels she’d been carrying were completely impractical. “What have you got?”
“Not much. Do you know what size?”
He shook his head.
“I bought myself some new sandals the other day and haven’t worn them yet. Take those and see if they fit.”
“Mom, you don’t have to—”
“I have other shoes, and I’m sure she’ll replace them.”
“I’m sure she will. Thanks.”
“What about toiletries?”
“What?”
“Toothbrush, deodorant, moisturizer, makeup.” Mischief glimmered in her eyes. “Feminine hygiene.”
He felt his face go red. “Geez, I don’t know. She never said anything about that kind of stuff.”
She laughed. “If you really want to be a hero, you should make a stop at the drugstore on your way home.”
He stared at her. Was she serious?
“At least buy her a toothbrush.”
FREDERICK’S PHARMACY seemed unusually busy. He wandered up one aisle and down the next, trying to figure out what Leslie might need. In the end he settled on a toothbrush—a bright pink one that would not get confused with his blue one—and headed for the checkout.
The guy in line ahead of him glanced over his shoulder and nodded.
John Fontaine. Allison Fontaine’s husband. Allison would have been a maid of honor today, if there had been a wedding. Judging by John’s boutonniered tuxedo, he’d been in the wedding party, too.
Brent nodded back. “How’s it going?”
“I’ve had better days.”
“Is that right?” It sounded lame, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“You can probably tell I’m supposed to be at a wedding reception right now,” he said, as if trying to explain the monkey suit.
“I kind of figured. Who’s getting married?”
“A friend of mine. Gerald Bedford. Maybe you know him?”
Brent had always known Leslie would never settle for a guy like him, but when he’d heard that she planned to marry Gerald Bedford III, it had been like a knife in the gut. “I know who he is. Who’s he marrying?”
John looked confused. “Leslie Durrance. I assumed you’d know. You still work for her brother, Nick, don’t you?”
“Oh, right,” he said. “I think he mentioned something about a wedding.”
“I might as well tell you, since you’ll hear about it from Nick anyway. There was no wedding because Leslie took off. Literally left the groom standing at the altar.”
“You’re kidding.” Brent opened his eyes wide and hoped that passed for surprise. “You don’t hear about that happening very often, except maybe in the movies.”
“It was quite a scene.”
“I can imagine. What happened? She get cold feet or something?”
John gave an expansive shrug. “She just took off. No one seems to know why, and no one knows where she went.”
“Humph. Go figure.” Did anyone think to ask the groom what he’d done to her? Brent wished he could think of a way to fish for more information without raising suspicion. On the other hand, much as he’d like to know what the hell Gerald Bedford had done to hurt Leslie, he’d rather hear her side of the story first.
“Nick’s out looking for her, and her mother’s not handling it very well.”
The cashier started ringing up John’s purchases—an assortment of things that could only be described as toiletries, right down to the dreaded box of “feminine hygiene.” John folded his list and stuck it in his pocket. “Picking up a few things for my wife. She’s pretty upset, not knowing where Leslie is.”
“Understandable.” He should have had the sense to ask Leslie if she needed anything besides clothes. Still, he was just as happy to not be standing here with a basketful of women’s toiletries. He tossed the pink toothbrush on the counter, then met John’s questioning gaze. “I have to clean the grout in the bathroom,” he said.
“That’ll be eighteen dollars and ninety-seven cents,” the cashier said.
John opened his wallet and handed her a hundred-dollar bill.
“Yep,” Brent said. “Toothbrushes are great on grout.”
“I’ll remember that.” John pocketed his wallet and picked up the bag. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
“You bet.”
John started to walk away, then stopped. “You know, most guys wouldn’t be telling people they were buying a spare toothbrush to clean grout.”
Brent pulled a couple of loose bills out of his pocket and smiled. Guess I’m not your average guy, he thought to himself as he watched John cross the parking lot.
“Will that be everything?” the cashier asked.
“No, I’ll take one of these, too.” From a bin near the checkout he chose a small brown teddy bear with a pink ribbon tied around its neck and placed it on the counter beside the toothbrush.
LESLIE STEPPED out of the bath, feeling a little calmer and a lot warmer, and toweled herself dry. She picked up her bra and panties and dropped them again. After that wonderful warm bath, there was no way she could wear cold, wet underwear. She pulled Brent’s T-shirt over her head, breathing in the clean, fresh-but-still-masculine scent, and reached for his sweat pants.
She’d never worn a man’s clothing before and the whisper of the fleecy fabric was unexpectedly intimate, especially against the part of her that should have been wearing underwear. After she adjusted the drawstring and tied it, the pants settled comfortably onto her hips. The legs were way too long so she rolled them up, then slipped her feet into the socks.
Her beautiful wedding gown was a crumpled heap on the floor. She set the jewelry on the edge of the vanity and shook out the dress over the tub. It was an absolute dream of a dress. Or at least it had been until she’d run through the rain in it. It had been the first and only dress she’d tried on and even Allison, who never bought anything until she’d tried on half the things in the store, had agreed it was perfect.
Everything about this day was supposed to be perfect. But she had been so preoccupied with planning the perfect wedding that she’d missed seeing that the perfect groom was cheating on her.
She hung the dress on a hook on the back of the bathroom door, next to Brent’s jacket. After she’d neatly draped her wet towels over the towel bar, she gathered up her bra and panties. “Brent, I really hope you have a clothes dryer here.”
She opened the bathroom door and Max, who must have been sprawled on the floor outside, leaped to his feet.
“Were you guarding the door?”
His tail wagged in response.
“Good boy. Is Brent home yet?”
The dog cocked his head to one side.
“I take it that means no.” Besides, the house was small enough that she would have heard him come in. “Is it okay if I have a look around?”
The tiny hallway was lined with doors. Aside from the bathroom, there were two closets and two bedrooms. Both bedroom doors were open. The one with the huge four-poster bed and chest of drawers must be Brent’s. The other had a desk, a small bookcase crammed with books and magazines, and a neatly made single bed. Until now she hadn’t given any thought to where she might spend the night, but found herself hoping it would be here. Too bad there was no way to let Gerald know she’d be spending the night with another man.
Except Brent hadn’t offered to keep her overnight.
And even if he did, she wouldn’t technically be spending the night with him. But then Gerald wouldn’t need to know that.
Max disappeared into Brent’s bedroom, but she decided not to follow. Instead she went through to the living room.
Max loped into the room behind her, carrying a gray teddy bear in his mouth.
“How adorable are you? Is that your favorite toy?”
He set the bear on the floor between them.
“Are you giving it to me?”
He wagged his back end.
She reached for the bear but he grabbed it and dashed out of reach.
“So that’s how it’s going to be.” She clapped her hands and Max trotted ahead of her into the kitchen. Leslie followed. No doubt he expected her to chase him, but first she had to dry her underwear and there was no laundry equipment in here.
Surely he had a washer and dryer? She returned to the hallway by the bathroom and opened a pair of folding doors. Sure enough, there was a washer and dryer. She took a quick look at the care tag sewn into her bra. It wasn’t supposed to go in the dryer but desperate times…
“As if ruined lingerie is the worst thing that could happen today.” She tossed both garments into the dryer and closed the door. Five minutes on low should do it, she decided. With any luck she’d be wearing them by the time Brent returned.
She went back to the kitchen. She loved well-equipped kitchens, and Brent had done an amazing job of fixing up this one. It even had an old wood-burning cookstove that appeared to have been converted to gas. She was impressed.
Max dropped his bear on the floor next to an empty bowl and gazed up at her. As if she wasn’t already falling for the silly mutt, his pleading look was completely irresistible.
“Your dish is empty. Would you like something to eat?”
His tongue rolled out the side of his mouth.
“Poor Max. Where does Brent keep your food?”
She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. “It’s one thing to talk to a dog. Waiting for an answer is a good indication that you’re losing your mind.”
She opened the fridge. Three bottles of beer, an empty pizza box and an assortment of individual-sized condiments. In spite of the impressive kitchen, it appeared that Brent ate out a lot. And there was no dog food. She opened the cupboard nearest the dog’s empty dish.
Max leaped to his feet, nearly knocking her over in the process, and raced back and forth across the kitchen.
Inside the cupboard was an enormous bag of doggie kibble. She peered into the bag and saw a red plastic scoop. “How much am I supposed to give you?”
For heaven’s sake, Leslie, stop asking him questions. She hauled the bag out of the cupboard and read the daily portions, which were broken down by weight.
How much did Max weigh?
At least this time she hadn’t asked him. She dumped a scoopful of food into the bowl and Max dove into it eagerly. “That should do for now. If you’re supposed to get more, Brent can give it to you when he gets home.”
But now that Max had something to eat, he couldn’t be less interested in her.
The dryer buzzed. Dry underwear! She hurried back to the hallway, pulled the two items out of the dryer, took them into the bathroom and locked the door. She shed Brent’s clothes as quickly as she could and put on her bra and panties. Who knew warm underwear felt this good? She’d have to do this more often. She pulled the shirt and sweat pants back on and tightened the drawstring on her way back to the kitchen.
The ring of the telephone startled her. She had no intention of answering but instinctively she glanced at the call display.
C. Girling.
Cappuccino Girl?
No. They’d gone to high school with someone named Cathy Girling, but she was not the woman who’d been with Brent that day at the deli. However, Cathy had been one of the glamour girls in the gaggle of admirers that had followed him around the school. Was Brent seeing her? She’d never seemed like his type.
Not that it’s any of your business.
A red light on the phone started to blink. Whoever she was, she’d left a message.
Leslie hefted the dog food bag back into the cupboard and glanced again at the phone. She should call someone and let them know where she was, or at least that she was all right, and she should definitely check her own messages.
She picked up the phone and called Nick. Luckily she reached his answering machine and not him. She left a longer-than-necessary message, telling him she was okay but not where she was or what had happened. They’d drifted apart since they were teenagers and she regretted that. Great as it was that they’d reconnected in the past few weeks, she wasn’t ready to hear what he had to say about this disaster.
After she hung up, she called her voice mail to check her messages. There was one from Nick. “Call me,” was all he said. Three were from a frantic-sounding Allison, who had already sent her husband to check Leslie’s town house and the law office where she worked. There was one from her mother, sternly demanding that she return her call immediately, and two of the calls had been hang-ups. Gerald? He wouldn’t call, would he? But trust him not to have the guts to leave a message if he did.
She hung up and looked around the kitchen again. It was neat and tidy, except for a few dishes in the sink. There was no dishwasher and without giving much thought to what she was doing, she filled the sink with hot, soapy water.
The tag on Max’s collar jangled loudly against the metal bowl as he wolfed down his lunch. “Must be good stuff, Max,” she said.
“You didn’t have to wash those.”
She dropped the pot she was scrubbing, splashing herself with soapy water as she whirled around. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Brent had a wide smile but his eyebrows suggested he was a little puzzled. He pointed to Max. “He swindled you into feeding him, did he?”
“His bowl was empty and he seemed hungry, so I thought I’d feed him for you.”
The dog looked up from his once-again-empty bowl and licked his chops.
Brent ruffled the fur on the top of his head. “Max, you old rascal.”
Leslie dried her hands on a dish towel. “I wasn’t supposed to feed him?”
“He only gets fed once a day. I put his food out in the evening.”
“I’m so sorry. Will he be all right?”
Brent laughed. “He’ll be fine, except now he likes you better than me.”
Max was clearly devoted to Brent, but she still liked the idea. “He’s a great dog. How old is he?”
“The vet thinks he’s about three.”
“You haven’t had him since he was a puppy?”
He gave the dog an affectionate scruff on the neck. “I found Max at the SPCA. I did some work there last summer, repairing their kennels, and there he was. He had been badly neglected by his previous owner. He needed a home and he seemed to think I needed a dog.”
“Poor fellow.” She knelt beside him and put an arm around his neck. He licked her ear, making her laugh. “How could anyone not love you?”
“I hear that a lot,” Brent said.
“Very funny. I was talking about Max.” She stood up and hung the dish towel on a rack near the sink.
Brent looked at her and for a moment he seemed as uncomfortable as she felt. Now that they’d exhausted Max’s history, he didn’t seem to know what else to say.
“You have a message,” she said. “Someone called while you were out.”
He picked up the phone and checked the number of the last caller, then gave her a quick, questioning glance.
“I didn’t answer it.”
“I see that.” But he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to check it. Instead he handed her the bag he was carrying. “Here’s the stuff I found at my mother’s place. I’m sorry they’re not nicer or…” His voice trailed off.
“I’m sure these things will be fine.”
“I bought you a toothbrush.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“It was my mother’s idea.”
Panic grabbed her heart and held on. Brent’s mother didn’t like her, although she’d never understood why. “You told her I’m here?”
“Didn’t have to. She guessed it was you.”
“How…?” But she knew how. Collingwood Station had an efficient gossip mill, to which she herself had contributed on more than one occasion. “The news really spread that fast?”
“Afraid so. She went to Donaldson’s earlier today and people were talking about it. I ran into John at the drugstore and…”
Oh, no. “Was Allison with him?” When it came to sniffing out gossip and dragging it out of people, Allison had a nose like a bloodhound and a mean streak like a pit bull.
“Apparently she was already at home nursing a headache,” he said. “John didn’t seem to know why you were gone, but he did mention that Nick was looking for you.”
“While you were out I called my brother and left a message on his machine. I didn’t tell him where I am, so thank you for covering for me.”
“No problem.”
She tightened her grip on the bag of clothes as if it was a security blanket, which in a way it was. The things Brent had brought for her meant she wouldn’t have to go home for a few days. If he didn’t want her to stay here, maybe he’d lend her some money so she could stay at a hotel. “Did your mother know what happened? Why I—”
Brent shook his head. “And my mother’s not one to gossip. She won’t tell anyone where you’re staying.”
Leslie supposed she should be relieved to hear that, but she knew Brent’s mother. They had served on Collingwood Station’s redevelopment committee and from the start, Colleen Borden had treated her like an adversary. Still, she hoped Brent was right and that his mother wouldn’t tell anyone she was here.
She wasn’t ready to face her family and friends, and she definitely wasn’t ready to tell them what had happened. But what about Brent? Did she owe him an explanation?
“Gerald is having an affair,” she said, even before she’d made a conscious decision to tell him.
He looked as though he didn’t believe her. “Are you sure? I mean, maybe—”
“I saw them together.” The flash of memory was accompanied by a wave of nausea.
“Why didn’t you dump him when you found out?” He sounded incredulous.
“I found out this morning.”
She watched as he processed that piece of information, and then the understanding of what she’d just told him spread across his face.
“You mean he…? They…? At the church? No.”
She glanced down at her feet and wriggled her toes inside Brent’s socks. “I’m afraid so.”
“Oh, Leslie. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into his arms then, and she let him. He felt safe and dependable and surprisingly nonjudgmental, and she pressed her face against his shoulder and let the tears flow. Oddly enough, she wasn’t sure what was making her cry—Gerald’s infidelity, or having to tell Brent about it.
Chapter Three
Taking her into his arms had been purely instinctive. Reacting to her now that she was in them was perfectly natural, he told himself. Strictly physical. Totally unbelievable. When he’d picked her up by the church, the delicate scent of her perfume had filled the cab of the truck. Now, after using his soap and shampoo, she smelled like she belonged here.
He’d driven by the church that morning with the intention of finally closing a door on one chapter of his life. Instead the door was wide open and the pages of that chapter were blowing all over the room. Which was a really dumb metaphor to be thinking about, considering that the woman of his dreams, the one to which he still compared all others, was now soaking his shirt with her tears. As far he knew she had never in her life needed anyone or anything, but she needed someone now. Not him, specifically, but he was here and she was here, and the bag of clothes he’d given her was squished between them, and that was a good thing.
This isn’t about you, he told himself. Ha. The hell it isn’t.
Meanwhile, he had no clue what to say to her. There, there, everything will be okay.
No. “I’d like to track that guy down and beat the crap out of him.”
Or he could say that.
She took half a step back and looked at him through watery eyes. “That sounds like something a brother might say.” For the first time that day, she smiled, just briefly, but long enough to remind him about the adorable little dimple to the left of her mouth.
And he was so glad he wasn’t her brother. “If yours never said it, he should have.”
“Nick never gives advice.”
“This time he should have made an exception.”
“And what should he have said?”
“Don’t marry that guy, he’s a jerk.”
“He told you that?”
Brent knew thin ice when he was standing on it, and this ice was getting thinner by the minute. “Not in so many words, but he obviously didn’t like Gerald.”
“He never said anything like that to me.”
“He has some misguided idea that he shouldn’t stick his nose in other people’s business.”
“I know. Nick hates having people tell him what to do, so he’d never interfere with anyone else’s decision.” She looked down at her hands and fidgeted with the handles of the bag of clothing. “So you think Gerald’s a jerk and you’d like to beat the crap out of him,” she said. “Anything else you want to tell me while we’re on the subject?”
The question caught him off guard. Thin ice, he reminded himself. “Gerald and I don’t exactly move in the same circles so I don’t know him all that well.”
“But you have an opinion.”
And as much as he found it difficult to believe, she seemed to want to hear it. So he said it. “I don’t think he’s good enough for you.”
“Really?”
“That surprises you?”
“A little.”
“What did you expect me to say?”
“That we deserved each other.”
“Then you don’t know me very well.”
“You’re right. I don’t know you at all. You’ve changed a lot since high school.”
He shrugged. “I’m still the same person.”
“I guess I didn’t know you then, either.”
“You never gave me a chance.”
“You were always goofing around and trying to get me to go out with you. Now you seem…”
He waited for her to finish her sentence, but she didn’t. “Grown-up?” he asked.
There was that dimple again, and he had to resist the urge to stroke the tip of his finger across it.
“Definitely grown-up. And thank you for not…” She stopped herself and her face flushed pink.
I’ll be damned, he thought. Had she actually thought he might make a pass at her? He searched those soft brown eyes, looking for a hint of wishful thinking, but detected none.
He moved closer and she stepped back until she was against the kitchen counter. “This is what you expected?” He put his hands on the counter on either side of her and leaned closer but without touching her.
Her eyes went wide.
“This was the last thing on my mind. Under the circumstances, making a pass at you would have been out of line. But now that you’ve suggested it…”
She eyed him warily. “I didn’t suggest anything.”
That’s right, he reminded himself. If anyone was guilty of wishful thinking, he was.
“I’ll just say one more thing,” he said as he backed away from her.
“What’s that?” Her voice was barely audible.
“I always thought Gerald Bedford was a jerk but until today I never had him pegged as a fool.”
“I don’t think he is.”
“Trust me, he is. And when he realizes how badly he screwed up, he’ll think so, too.” He’d bet that regret was already eating at Bedford like a cancer. Guys that arrogant thought they could have it all—beautiful wife, slutty mistress and whatever else money could buy. If he hadn’t come to his senses yet, he soon would. When he did, would he try to get Leslie to take him back?
And would she fall for it?
Brent wanted to believe she was too sensible for that, even though it was none of his business. Had nothing to do with him at all. He’d keep her here as long as he could, but once she was ready to go back home and face the world, they’d go back to being casual acquaintances. She’d ignore him if she ran into him at the deli, or avoid him altogether.
Coping with that would be easier if she didn’t get back together with Gerald. Since he couldn’t tell her that, he decided it was time to change the subject.
“I still have to deliver that lumber to a job site and take the truck back to the warehouse.”
“Are you taking Max with you?”
“I can if you want me to.”
“No, leave him here. He’s good company. I promise I won’t feed him again. Is there anything else I’m not supposed to do?”
Brent scratched the dog behind the ears. “He’s pretty tough. Aren’t you, boy?”
Max panted in agreement.
Brent remembered what his mother had said earlier. What about toiletries? He’d rather not have to make another trip to the drugstore but if Leslie needed something, he’d get it for her. “Do you need me to pick up anything for you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He suspected she was going easy on him, and he had no argument with that. “You can put your things in the spare room,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
Be interesting to see if she still felt that away after she saw what was in the bag. “I guess I should pick up something for dinner, too. Do you like pizza? Or Chinese?”
“Chinese would be great. Do you get it from Wong’s Kitchen?”
“Isn’t it the only Chinese restaurant in town?”
“I guess it is. I don’t eat a lot of takeout but I do like their curried noodles.”
“One of my favorites, too. What else would you like?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. Surprise me.”
Mr. Wong’s menu had all the usual standards. No surprises there. Leslie would definitely be surprised that Brent wasn’t over his high school crush, though. Hell, even he was caught off guard because until today, he’d been pretty sure he was.
You might be able to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. His mother was right. He wasn’t fooling anybody. Least of all himself. He wasn’t over her, and he probably never would be.
AS SOON AS Brent pulled out of the driveway, Leslie checked her voice mail again. Five more calls. This time only one person hadn’t left a message. Nick had returned hers and said to let him know if she needed anything. Her mother had called again, this time with a harsher reprimand and a reminder that if she wasn’t going through with the wedding, she would have to return all the gifts. Leslie punched the key to delete it.
Two more from Allison, whose worried tone had escalated to annoyed. “I know you’re checking your messages, Leslie. Why won’t you call me?” and “I’m sending John over to your place again. I can’t believe you’re making us worry like this.”
She banged the receiver back into its cradle a little harder than she needed to. “Damn it, Allison. This is not about you.”
But she knew everyone, with the exception of her brother, would make this their business. Thank God she didn’t have to go home and deal with the phone calls and people dropping by to check up on her.
She picked up the bag of clothing Brent had brought for her and carried it into his spare room. As she emptied the contents onto the bed, Max jumped up and flopped down next to them. The teddy bear immediately caught her attention. Max’s, too.
“Hey,” she said, snatching it out of his reach. “You have your own bear. Brent gave this one to me.” She picked it up and for a few seconds, tears blurred her vision. Early that morning a courier had delivered Gerald’s wedding gift. The diamond necklace and matching earrings were stunning, but they hadn’t triggered any kind of emotional response. Maybe because she’d been expecting them. Not those exact pieces, but she’d known he would give her something extravagant.
The teddy bear was unexpected, and kind of sweet. Most men sent flowers when they were trying to make a woman feel better but it was becoming apparent that Brent wasn’t like most men, at least not the ones she knew. She set the bear against the pillow and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of his T-shirt.
“I’ll call him Max.” The dog looked up at her. “That seems like a good name for my teddy bear, don’t you think?” When her life was back to normal and she was back in her own home, she would still have Max the teddy bear as a reminder of being rescued by Brent and being here.
She turned her attention to the clothes. He’d really been concerned they might not be good enough for her. He also thought Gerald wasn’t good enough for her, and she liked that. So, no matter what Brent had given her, she would not hurt his feelings by being anything but appreciative.
The jeans looked to be her size, so she wriggled out of Brent’s sweat pants and pulled them on. They were pretty much a perfect fit, just snug enough to be flattering, and soft and faded enough to be comfortable. She hadn’t been sure what he’d bring for her, but she hadn’t expected anything quite this wearable. She decided to leave on his T-shirt, though, and save the other things for the next few days.
Could she stay that long? She was certainly in no hurry to face her family and friends, and in even less of a hurry to tell them about Gerald and Candice.
She picked up the pink toothbrush and opened the package. There was no place to store it in the bedroom so she took it into the bathroom.
While she’d been in the bath, she hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings. Brent had done a great job of renovating the bathroom while keeping some of the old fixtures and maintaining the heritage feel of the small home. The vanity was an old washstand with a sink installed in it. She loved antiques, and converting it had been a clever idea. A shelf above the sink held a plastic holder with one toothbrush. A blue one. She stuck her new pink one in next to it.
Gerald had kept a toothbrush at her town house but the en suite bathroom had a long, marble-topped vanity with two sinks, so his things were separate from hers. Here, the two toothbrushes stood with their handles crossed and their bristles facing each other. Like they belonged together. She quickly pulled hers out and set it on the shelf. Somehow the two toothbrushes together seemed way too personal.
She was about to leave the bathroom when she spotted her jewelry beside the sink. She scooped up the pieces, but one of the earrings slipped out of her palm.
She grabbed for it and missed. “Damn it!” she said as it slithered down the drain.
She peered into the opening and saw it was partly blocked by two cross pieces. If she had any kind of luck the earring would have caught on one of them, but this was not her lucky day. The earring was gone.
She opened the doors of the vanity and pushed aside a stack of toilet paper so she could see the pipes. She had no idea what she was looking for, but she supposed the earring would be caught in the lowest part of the curved pipe. When Brent came home, she’d ask about calling a plumber.
She could always forget about the earring. It wasn’t as if she would ever wear it again.
Would Gerald expect her to return the jewelry? Knowing him, he probably would. Well, he could think again. She could take them back to the store and get something more practical. Something she’d actually wear, something that wouldn’t remind her that she’d almost ruined her life. Except anything she bought with that money would be a reminder that she nearly had. Better to do the right thing and return the jewelry.
And that meant asking Brent to help her get the earring out of the drain.
“What the hell,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. “What’s one more favor?”
She put the necklace and the other earring in the top drawer of the little dresser in the bedroom. While she was standing there, the phone rang. She ran into the kitchen to check the caller ID. C. Girling, again. “Oh, buzz off,” she said to the phone. “If he wanted to talk to you, he would have called you back an hour ago.”
She went back to the bedroom to finish putting her things away.
After she folded the shirts and set them inside a drawer, she held the nightgown up to herself. It was made of thin, pale-blue cotton, a little on the short side but otherwise fairly practical. Very much the sort of thing that was meant for sleeping in. It couldn’t have been more different from the seductive pink silk number she’d intended to wear tonight. She quickly folded the nightgown, set it next to the shirts and closed the drawer.
The only other thing in the bag was a pair of sandals. She slipped off Brent’s socks and tried them on. Not a brand name she recognized, but they were leather and very comfortable. They were new and only a half size too big. Perfect, really, considering that her only other options were either the socks or the wedding shoes she’d left by the front door.
She could use another set of underwear but as welcome as they would have been, she was grateful she didn’t have to accept panties from a man she barely knew. If she washed the things she was wearing and hung them up before she went to bed, they would be dry by morning.
Max appeared to have fallen asleep, but he suddenly sat up as though listening for something and then leaped off the bed and raced out of the room. A minute later she heard Brent’s key in the front door.
He was in the kitchen when she caught up with him, removing take-out containers from a large paper bag. The scents had her mouth watering. “That smells so good.”
“I picked up a few groceries, too, so we’ll have something for breakfast.”
She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Gerald was the only man she’d ever had breakfast with and the thought of waking up in the morning and having breakfast with Brent made her feel strangely self-conscious.
“Pull up a stool,” he said. “I’ll grab some plates.”
“And then after we’ve eaten, I think we’ll have to call a plumber.”
He set the last container on the counter and looked at her. “Oka-a-ay. Why?”
“I left my earrings on the vanity in the bathroom and one of them kind of went down the drain.” Like my marriage, she thought, swallowing the laughter rising in the back of her throat.
“Those were beautiful earrings,” he said.
“You mean it’s gone?”
“Oh, it’s still down there.” He looked way too amused by this.
“So if we call a plumber, he’ll be able to get it out for me?”
“Not necessary.”
That sounded encouraging. “You know how to get things out of drains?”
“Piece of cake. Did you run any water after you dropped it?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll grab a couple of tools and be right back.”
All sorts of tempting aromas rose from the take-out containers lined up on the counter. She felt a little light-headed, she was so hungry. “We could leave it till after we eat.”
“How much did those earrings cost?”
She shrugged. “A lot?”
“We’ll get it now.” He went out the back door and disappeared into a small shed. A few minutes later he was back with a red plastic bucket and a handful of tools.
She followed him to the bathroom. “Is there something I can do to help?”
He gave her two tools. “Sure. You can hand these to me when I need them.”
She took the tools and stood back while he opened the vanity and emptied it. Then he set the bucket under the sink.
“Pass me that small wrench.”
She knelt on the floor and gave him the smaller of the two tools she was holding, which turned out to be the right one because he used it to unscrew something from the underside of the pipe. Some gray-colored sludge drained into the bucket.
Max squeezed into the tiny bathroom, nearly knocking her over. She grabbed Brent’s shoulder to steady herself.
He glanced back at her and the oversized dog. “I should have put him outside.”
“I can do that,” Leslie offered. But before she had a chance to move, Max jumped into the bathtub.
“He’s fine in there,” Brent said. “At least he’s out of the way.” He swirled the crud that had drained into the bucket. “It must still be caught in the trap,” he said. He got down on the floor on his back, wedged his shoulders between the open doors of the vanity and angled his head under the sink.
She had no idea what kind of trap he was talking about.
With one hand he groped for a tool and grabbed her knee instead. “Sorry. I need the other wrench.”
She handed him the only other tool she had. “That doesn’t look like a wrench.”
“Basin wrench.” It clanged against the pipe and his biceps flexed as he wedged it into position. He heaved on it a couple of times and his T-shirt strained against his chest, then finally rode up, exposing hard, tanned abs. Very hard. Very nice. She tried to look away, but her eyes seemed to have a different idea.
Max leaned out of the tub and nudged her shoulder. Good dog, she thought. I needed a distraction.
Brent loosened some rings on the pipes and the curvy piece came away. He shoved himself out of the vanity, sat up and squinted as he looked into one end of the pipe. Then he tipped it her way so she could have a look. “There it is.”
As he scrambled to his feet, she jumped up and took a step backward. Max got to his feet, too, but he stayed in the bathtub. Brent set the bucket in the tub under the faucet and turned on a trickle of water, letting it run into the pipe.
The dog stuck his nose under the stream.
“Come on, Max. Out of the way.”
The dog stepped back but kept an eye on the water running from the tap.
Leslie watched as the grungy water flowed slowly out the end of the pipe. When the earring appeared, Brent caught it in his fingers and held it up for her to see, then he rinsed it under the tap and handed it to her. “Good thing we found it. It’d be a shame to lose all those diamonds.”
The sudden sharpness in his voice surprised her. “They were a gift from Gerald,” she said, holding it in her palm, still a little reluctant to touch it after seeing where it had been. “I’m going to give them back.”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t lose it.”
That was true. “Nothing is going right today. I’m usually not this much trouble.”
His eyes seemed to soften. “Leslie, you’re no trouble. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to clean out the trap once in a while.”
“Is it called that because it traps things that fall down the drain?”
“Afraid not. Every time you turn on the tap, most of the water runs through the system but some of it always stays behind in this bend. That water closes off the pipe so gas from the sewer doesn’t come up into the house.”
“That is really disgusting.”
He laughed. “Not as disgusting as a house full of sewer gas.”
That was true. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation like this.”
“And I’ve never had to fish diamonds out of a drainpipe. I guess that makes us even.”
“Actually, I owe you for this. For everything.”
“Next time I need something, I’ll know who to ask.”
For the first time that day he sounded like the guy she’d known in high school, always quick with a comeback and a double meaning. It had bugged her in those days, but right now she didn’t mind playing along. “You can ask, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get what you want.”
“I’m well aware of that, but sometimes persistence pays off.”
His gaze held hers like a magnet. She couldn’t have looked away if she’d tried, and the walls of the tiny bathroom seemed to close in on them. She might have been tempted to continue the game if he hadn’t just let on that her being here had something to do with his persistence. She had assumed his driving by the church had been a coincidence, but what if it wasn’t? If that was the case, it definitely wouldn’t be right to lead him on, and she always did the right thing.
Brent lightly touched her shoulder and urged her toward the door, then bent to pick up the tools. “Dinner’s getting cold,” he said softly. “I’ll put the plumbing back together while you serve it. Plates are in the cupboard next to the fridge.”
It was as if he’d sensed her confusion and was giving her an easy way out. She took it.
Chapter Four
Leslie set out two plates, the take-out boxes and the chopsticks. She was putting away the groceries when Brent came into the kitchen. He set the bucket and tools on the porch and closed the French doors. When he turned around and looked at her, the kitchen suddenly felt as small as the bathroom.
“Um, I guess we’re ready to eat,” she said.
“Would you like a glass of wine with dinner?” he asked. “I bought white. I hope that’s okay.”
“Thanks. I’d love some. Do you mind if I use your phone to check my messages?”
“You can use the phone anytime you like.” He opened and closed one drawer, then another, and finally produced a corkscrew. “I knew I had one of these somewhere. You expecting an important call?”
“Not really. I just wondered if people are still looking for me.”
“I think it’s safe to say they are. Do you plan to return the calls?”
She shook her head.
“Then why don’t you leave the messages till you’re ready to deal with them?”
Good question. “In case you’re wondering, I’m not checking to see if Gerald called.”
“You think he would?” Brent uncorked the bottle and took a wineglass out of a cupboard.
She shrugged. “Someone called earlier, twice, and hung up.”
He glanced up at her.
“I checked my messages while you were out. I’m sure it wasn’t him, though.”
“Right.” He gestured toward the phone. “Be my guest.”
“Thanks.” But as soon as she heard the eight new messages and deleted them, she wished she hadn’t checked. For one thing, she knew Brent could probably hear them, too. Four were from Allison, who said she’d sent her husband to Leslie’s place three times to see if she was there. She might never go home if it meant having to deal with people calling incessantly and showing up at her door.
As she deleted the last message, she watched Brent pour wine into the glass. After she hung up, he handed it to her.
“Aren’t you having any?” she asked.
“Not a big fan.” He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap and touched the rim to her wineglass. He opened a drawer and took out a fork and then, almost as an afterthought, grabbed a beer glass from the same cupboard the wineglass had been in.
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