and her gaze slid away. “Actually, I am.” She motioned toward the house. “But my needs are a little smaller than this house and a little more, well, immediate.”
Smaller. The description was hardly what he’d expected to hear. More immediate. An idea nudged him. An outrageous idea. Gavin ignored it.
“Are you…relocating?” He nearly said running. Why did that word seem a better fit?
“At least temporarily. Yes.” Her head jerked in an emphatic nod as if she’d just reached a decision. “Do you know anything that might be available around here?”
“In Gabriel’s Crossing, you mean?”
“Gabriel’s Crossing.” Her lips curved as she repeated the town’s name, and Gavin got the feeling that before he’d said it Lauren hadn’t actually known that’s where she was.
That outrageous idea nudged him with a little more force. “Maybe.”
“Is it nearby?” she asked.
“Very. There’s a cottage about fifty yards behind the house. It’s adjacent to the orchard, with great views out all of its windows. I lived in it myself before the rewiring of this place was complete.”
“And it’s for rent?”
It hadn’t been. In fact, before this moment, Gavin had never entertained the idea of taking on a tenant. He certainly didn’t need the income or, for that matter, the hassle. But he nodded. Then he felt compelled to point out, “It’s not very big.”
“It doesn’t need to be big.”
He glanced at Lauren’s pricey clothes and Park Avenue appearance. The entire cottage could fit inside the master suite of his apartment back in New York. He’d bet the same could be said for hers. And so he added, “There’s not much closet space.”
He was sure that bit of news would scuttle the deal. He almost hoped it would. He was being impulsive again. It was a trait that had all but doomed him in the past. But the lack of closets didn’t appear to have any impact on Lauren’s enthusiasm. Her expression remained a beguiling mix of hope and anticipation.
“Do you think I could see it?”
“You’re interested?” Heaven help him, but Gavin knew he was, and it had nothing to do with a rental agreement. The woman was beautiful, enigmatic. He wouldn’t mind unveiling some of her secrets.
For the first time since her arrival, his gaze detoured to her left hand. A set of rings encircled her third finger, and a whopper of a diamond was visible. Married. He nearly snorted out a laugh. That’s what I get for rushing ahead without thinking things through.
Now if she took Gavin up on his hasty offer to rent the cottage, he would have a couple of lovebirds nesting within shouting distance of his house. Probably just as well, he decided, dismissing the spark of attraction. He wasn’t in the market for a relationship. He hadn’t been since his divorce. And although he missed certain aspects of female companionship, overall he didn’t regret his decision one bit.
“I believe I am interested,” Lauren said after a long pause. Her lips curved in a smile, and one of those aspects he had missed presented itself. “Do you think I could see it right now? I mean, if you can spare a little more of your time.”
Gavin managed a grin as he straightened. “Sure. As I said, I’ve got nothing pressing at the moment.”
Lauren stood in the middle of the cottage’s main room. It was small—although the word cozy seemed a more apt description—and empty, except for some dusty storage boxes that Gavin assured her would be removed. She could picture an overstuffed chair and ottoman in front of the window that faced the orchard, and maybe a small writing desk in the vacant nook below the stairs. They’d already looked at the bedroom in the loft. It would be a tight fit, but it could accommodate a dresser and queen-size bed, as well as a changing table and crib.
“So, what do you think?” Gavin asked.
Lauren wasn’t the spontaneous sort. Generally she thought things through carefully before making any decisions. Sometimes she even created lists, writing down the pros and cons of a situation and analyzing both columns in meticulous fashion before reaching a conclusion.
Not today.
Today was a day of firsts. Not only had she walked out on her husband, she was getting ready to lease a new home. A home for her and the baby.
“I’ll take it.” She swore she felt the leaden weight of recent events lift from her shoulders. “Maybe I should be spontaneous more often,” she murmured.
“Excuse me?” Gavin said.
“Nothing. Just…thinking aloud. How much is the rent?”
Gavin scratched his chin thoughtfully before rattling off a sum that Lauren would have no problem affording. She’d hardly been a pauper coming into her marriage, and although she’d reluctantly quit her position six months before her wedding at Holden’s request, she had a degree in advertising and prior work experience at one of the largest firms in Manhattan. She could always find a job if need be. For now, though, what she wanted was peace.
“Utilities are included,” Gavin added as he waited for her answer.
She glanced around the room again, her gaze drawn to the windows and the outdoor beauty they framed. Another band of tension loosened. The peace she sought seemed included in the rent as well.
Turning to Gavin, she asked, “When can I move in?”
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS late afternoon by the time Lauren returned to the city. She unlocked the door to the apartment slowly, dreading the confrontation to come. She should have realized whatever was left to say would be said in a civilized manner—civilized to the point of being impersonal. Just as her parents had never believed in arguing, neither did her husband.
She found Holden in his study, sitting in his favorite leather chair next to the gas fireplace, which was flickering cheerfully, its heat competing with the air-conditioning. Little matters like high utility bills and energy conservation were beneath him. He had enough money to be wasteful. It was one of the perks of being wealthy, he’d once told Lauren when she’d gently chastised him for leaving the water running in the bathroom.
She studied him now. He was an attractive man—polished, sophisticated. It occurred to her that she’d never seen him in blue jeans, either the designer variety or the kind faded from wear. Nor could she imagine him operating power tools or smelling of sawdust and sweat. He considered himself above physical labor of any sort. The only calluses on his hands were the result of his weekly squash game, and his muscular build came courtesy of the workouts he scheduled with a personal trainer in their home gym.
She cleared her throat to gain his attention, breaking what had been her parents’ cardinal rule: always wait to be spoken to first. It struck her then how much it bothered her that she always felt the need to maintain her silence around her husband, too.
Holden glanced over the top of the Wall Street Journal.
“I already ate dinner, since I wasn’t sure when you’d be back,” he said. “I
