Baby By Chance. M.J. Rodgers

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СКАЧАТЬ she felt confident that he’d know the ad was for him. She’d much prefer knowing more about Todd before seeing him. But she needed answers, and talking to him seemed to be the only way she was going to get them.

      “Honey, where are you?” she called as she stuck the ad copy into her pocket and looked around.

      In response, a West Highland White Terrier with one floppy, honey-colored ear came dashing down the stairs.

      Susan dropped to a squat and opened her arms. The little terrier hopped off the final step and trotted toward her, dragging a boot in his mouth and wagging his tail with enthusiasm. When he reached her, she gave him a quick rub of welcome.

      “How did you get into my closet?” she asked, as she tried to wrestle the boot from his jaws. After a playful tug-of-war, Honey reluctantly relinquished the boot.

      As Susan rose, she looked closely at the large size and encrusted mud on the boot’s sole. Not one of hers.

      She looked around, noticing what she had missed earlier because of her preoccupation with the ad. Out of place in the tidy room was an empty wineglass. The wine bottle was nowhere in sight.

      Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

      Her eyes traveled up the spiral staircase, where she spied the boot’s mate on the top step.

      She trudged up the stairs with Honey trotting along beside her. She entered the bedroom and spied the empty bottle of wine lying on top of the nightstand.

      Honey jumped on the bed and headed for the dented pillow where he had obviously been sleeping when she’d come home. On the other pillow rested a head covered with long, curly black hair.

      She circled the bed and plopped down on the edge. She gave the bare foot poking out from the covers a gentle shake.

      “Ellie?” she called.

      The woman asleep in the bed snored.

      “So, what’s the trouble with Ellie?” Susan asked her terrier.

      Honey twisted around on his short legs to look at the sleeping woman. He gave his fury round body a mighty shake.

      “Don’t know either, huh?” she said. “Guess we better get the coffee on and try to find out.”

      ELLIE TREMONT SLUMPED over Susan’s kitchen table, her hands circling a cup of black coffee, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Susan’s best friend had the face of a cherub, the body of a Victoria’s Secret model, and the unerring bad judgment of a Las Vegas gambler when it came to picking men.

      “She’s a gourmet cook and knows the season’s statistics of every Seahawks player,” Ellie lamented before punctuating her words with a sob. “How do I compete with a woman like that?”

      Susan rested her hand briefly on her friend’s arm. “Love isn’t a competitive sport, El.”

      “I got so filthy on the Port Townsend shoot that I had to drop by the apartment to change before going back to the office,” Ellie said. “And what did I find? That woman in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a smirk.”

      “That woman did you a favor, El. Always better to find these things out sooner rather than later.”

      “Why wasn’t I good enough for Martin?” Ellie said, and let out another moan.

      “You were always too good for him,” Susan said. “Remember, this is the guy who thinks a romantic evening is your picking up the pizza and beer and serving him while he sprawls on the couch watching sports on the TV.”

      Susan watched Ellie straighten. A good sign. Her friend was listening.

      “I’d also lay odds that he’s a lousy lover,” Susan said. “Men who cheat are too self-absorbed to really care about a partner.”

      “I should have suspected something when she became his boss,” Ellie said. “Being underneath a woman doing all the work has always been his favorite position.”

      Ellie grabbed a tissue, dabbed at her eyes. “I should be glad to be rid of him,” she continued. “He’s nothing but a lazy, cheating, lousy lover!”

      “That’s the spirit.”

      Ellie smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

      “Takes one to know one,” she said, returning the smile.

      “Yeah, but you never dump on me the way I’m always dumping on you. Last thing you’d ever do is hook up with the wrong guy. Not that you’ve hooked up with any guy since Paul died. Why would you want to? Paul can never be replaced. He was perfect.”

      While Ellie sipped her coffee, Susan stared at the gold band on her finger and all it represented. The courageous, steadfast widow honoring her wonderful, dead husband.

      She wondered what Ellie would say if she told her about that insane night with Todd. And the pregnancy. The staid, straight Susan Carter gone mad. Would Ellie even believe her? Probably not. Susan still barely believed that night had happened.

      Honey grumbled loudly from beside her chair. When Susan looked down at him he was sitting on his backside, food bowl in his teeth, front paws slicing frantically through the air.

      “Oops, sorry, Honey. I forgot the time.”

      She slipped out of her chair and headed for the refrigerator. She pulled out a small piece of cooked steak, removed the plastic wrap and dropped the meat into Honey’s waiting bowl. Honey set his bowl down with an audible sigh of doggie relief.

      “You did the right thing choosing a dog over a man,” Ellie said, watching Honey happily gnaw on his dinner. “They are a hell of a lot more loyal.”

      “Sometimes,” Susan said as she slipped back onto her chair. “And sometimes you come home to find them in bed with your best friend.”

      Ellie smiled. “You want to know the truth? Honey’s a better snuggler than Martin ever was. I should get a dog. At least if they stray, you can have them neutered.”

      Honey’s head swung toward Ellie, his ears straight up as he made a noise of considerable doggie alarm. He grabbed his steak and ran for the doggie door leading out to the backyard.

      “He sure doesn’t miss much,” Ellie said, laughing, as she watched him hop through. “Which reminds me. Did I miss anything at work this afternoon?”

      “Nothing that won’t keep until tomorrow.”

      “You covered for me,” Ellie guessed.

      “Just like you would have covered for me.”

      “Except you’ll never need me to.”

      “You never know, El.”

      “Oh, I know. Even when we were teenagers and my dingbat of a dad and your ditzy mom were screaming mad and taking their frustrations out on both of us, you never let either of them get to you.”

      “I’d had a lot of practice dodging insults by then.”

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