Expecting a Miracle. Jackie Braun

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СКАЧАТЬ She swung around in time to see a man jogging toward her from the farmhouse just down the road. Good Lord. Had he seen…everything? Embarrassment turned her cheeks hot and she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

      “I’m fine,” Lauren called.

      She pasted on a smile and headed around the car’s hood, all the while hoping he wouldn’t come any closer. But he continued down the road in a long-legged stride that brought them face-to-face before she could open the driver’s-side door of her Mercedes and get inside.

      Doing so now would be rude. Lauren was never rude. So she remained standing, lips crooked up in the same polite smile that had gotten her through many a tedious dinner party with her husband’s work associates.

      “Are you sure?” the man asked. “You still look a little pale. Maybe you should sit down.”

      Lauren pegged him to be in his midthirties and physically fit, if the nice sculpting of his tanned arms was any indication. He was average height with tousled, mocha-colored hair that the breeze teased into further disarray.

      “I’ve been sitting. Well, driving.” She waved a hand down the road in the direction she’d come. “I just stopped to…to…to stretch my legs.”

      “Right.” Kind eyes studied her a moment. “Are you sure I can’t get you a glass of water or something?”

      “Oh, no. But thank you for offering.”

      It was a programmed response and so it slipped easily from her lips. She was used to lying about her feelings, subjugating her needs and putting a positive spin on everything. She’d done that growing up so as not to upset her workaholic parents’ hectic timetables. She’d done that as a wife, putting Holden and his demanding career first. But she’d been driving for more than two hours with no particular destination in mind. She had no idea how long it would be before she reached the next town. At the moment the undeniable truth was that she had to use the bathroom and would trade her Prada pumps for a good swish of mouthwash.

      So, before she could change her mind—again—she said primly, “Actually, I would appreciate the use of your…facilities.”

      “Facilities.” She thought he might grin. But he didn’t. He swept a hand in the direction of his house and said, “Sure. Right this way.”

      As they walked toward the farmhouse, he rested his hand on the small of her back, almost as if he knew she wasn’t quite steady on her feet. The gesture struck her as old-fashioned, gentlemanly almost. It seemed a little odd coming from a guy who was wearing a T-shirt whose logo was too faded to be readable and a pair of jeans stained on the thighs with various hues of paint.

      She chided herself for judging him based on appearances alone. Lauren knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving. She’d met enough designer-dressed phonies over the years. People who said all the appropriate things, supported all the right causes and knew which fork to use for their salads, but it was for show. She could spot them easily enough. It took a fake to know one.

      Did anyone know the real Lauren Seville?

      That thought had her remembering her manners. “I’m Lauren, by the way.”

      He smiled and a pair of dimples dented his stubble-covered cheeks. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Gavin.”

      When they reached the house, he guided her up the steps to the porch and held open the front door for her. Curiosity had her glancing around when she entered his house. Beyond the foyer, the living room was bare of furniture unless one counted the sawhorse set up next to the fireplace.

      “Are you working here?”

      “Why do you ask?” But he laughed then. “Actually, I own the place. I’m in the middle of some pretty aggressive renovations.”

      “So I see.”

      He settled his hands on his hips and glanced around, looking satisfied. “The kitchen’s coming along nicely and the bedroom on this floor is done. I’m just finishing up the crown molding in here. I’m debating whether I should stain it or paint it white. Same goes for the mantel I made. What do you think?”

      That threw her. Gavin barely knew her and yet he was asking her opinion. “You want to know what I think?”

      He shrugged. “Sure. Fresh eyes. Besides, you look like someone with good taste.” His gaze skimmed down momentarily, his expression frank and appreciative, but hardly leering. It left her feeling ridiculously flattered.

      And flustered. “You built the mantel too, hmm? You’re very good with your hands.”

      “So I’ve been told.”

      Heat prickled Lauren’s skin. Hormones, she decided. Fatigue.

      Gavin cleared his throat. “The bathroom is down that hall, first door on the right.”

      “Thanks.”

      As she walked away, he called, “Ignore the mess. I’m in the middle of rehabbing that room, too.”

      He wasn’t kidding about the mess. Shattered tiles from the walls lay in a heap in one corner and the light fixture was a single bare bulb that hung from a wire protruding from the ceiling.

      Lauren stepped to the pedestal sink and turned on the faucet, half expecting to see the water come out brown. But it was clear and cool and it felt gloriously refreshing when she splashed some of it on her face. Though she wasn’t one to snoop, desperation had her opening his medicine cabinet in search of something to help rid her mouth of its foul taste. She sighed with relief when she found a tube of toothpaste. She squeezed some onto her index finger and used it as a makeshift brush. When she joined Gavin on the porch a few minutes later she felt almost human again.

      He was seated on the swing at the far end, a bottle of water in each hand and a cell phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. When she stepped outside, he ended his call, maneuvered the bottles so he could clip the phone back onto his belt and stood.

      “Feeling better?” he asked as he handed Lauren one of the waters.

      “Yes. Thank you.”

      “Good. Have a seat.” He swept a hand in the direction of the swing he’d just left.

      It looked comfortable despite its worn cushion. Comfortable and inviting, much like the man himself. More than anything she wanted to sit. Lauren shook her head. “I really should be on my way.”

      “Why? Are you late for something?” he asked.

      “No. I just…I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

      “Nothing pressing. Well, the house. There’s always something to do here.” Gavin laughed. “But it’ll keep.” When she hesitated, he added. “Come on, Lauren. Join me. Consider it your good deed for the day. Once you go I’ll have to get back to work. I’d appreciate the break.”

      “Well, in that case…” She smiled, and though it wasn’t like her at all to spend time with a strange man in the middle of nowhere, she sat on the swing.

      It creaked softly under her weight. She allowed it to sway gently. Wind chimes tinkled СКАЧАТЬ