With This Ring

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.”