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
