by Brenda Novak
“Where is it?” she asked.
“Laguna Hills. The real-estate agent said it’s been neglected. But a fixer-upper might be fun. It’ll give us a project, you know?”
A fixer-upper was all they could afford in L.A. But Dave always painted everything in a positive light. “Sounds great.”
“You feeling okay?” he asked at the lack of enthusiasm in her voice.
Liz quickly rallied her spirits. “Fine. Good. Why?”
“You seem tired.”
“I am. For some reason, I couldn’t sleep last night.” For some reason? She knew exactly why….
“Maybe you should grab a nap today. Will you have time? What do you have planned?”
“I’ve got to make more strawberries and cherries for the store.”
“And the kids?”
“They’re going over to Reenie’s. Now that we’re moving, they want to spend every minute they can there.”
“Is your father at the shop again?”
“Yeah. He’s been opening for me.”
“How are he and Isaac getting along?”
“Not so good. Isaac still refuses to talk to him. He’s being stubborn.”
“He’ll come around.”
“I know.” Isaac was too kindhearted to hold a grudge for long. His issues, at this point, dealt more with trust. If Gordon could remain consistent, he’d eventually win Isaac over. But that would probably happen after she left.
Liz shook her head. She’d miss Isaac and Reenie. She’d miss her father, too. They’d been working together quite a bit lately. Walking away from that relationship, which was growing in a healthy direction for the first time in eighteen years, wouldn’t be easy. But she’d told him about the baby. He understood what she was doing. He just didn’t agree with it.
“By the way, you can tell Mica I bought her a good tennis racket,” Dave said. “I think it’s time to teach her how to play.”
Liz glanced at her daughter, who had rested her cheek glumly on one fist the moment she realized Liz was talking to Dave. “I’ll tell her. She’ll be excited.”
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’m supposed to be at the club. Call you later?”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
Liz’s chest constricted. She wanted to say it back. He deserved to hear it. But she hadn’t been able to yet. And today wasn’t going to be any different. Whenever those words rose to her lips, she pictured Carter. “Talk to you soon,” she said and hung up.
“I don’t like Dave,” Mica announced.
“What do you think of Carter Hudson?” Liz asked.
The question obviously caught Mica, who’d been readying herself for an argument, off guard. She opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. “He seems nice,” she said.
He wasn’t nice. Dave was nice. Carter was enigmatic and complex, and he could be difficult. Carter was a huge question mark.
But he was everything Liz wanted.
CARTER SAT ACROSS FROM KEITH at Jerry’s Diner and shoved his cup to the edge of the table so the waitress would refill it when she came around. Over the past few weeks Keith had requested several times that they meet, but Carter had always turned him down. He’d been too engrossed in his own problems, in trying to figure out how he felt about Liz and his baby, and whether or not he’d be able to withstand losing them. The vandalism at the shop was no longer a priority. Because he didn’t feel sorry for Keith, it was easy to let that go.
But there was something at the back of his mind that was bothering him, something that didn’t sit quite right, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer, regardless of what Bradley had told him.
“So you didn’t do it,” Carter said, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest.
“No, I didn’t,” Keith replied. “I don’t know how to prove it to you, but I swear I’m not the one.”
“Where do you think Bradley got your name?”
“I have no clue.” Keith raised a helpless hand. “That’s the crazy thing. I’ve never heard of him before in my life.”
Carter took the mug shot he’d brought from New York out of his shirt pocket and slid it across the table.
“This is him?” Keith asked.
Carter nodded. “Ever seen him before? Maybe at the Honky Tonk or some other bar?”
“No.”
“What about a bar in Boise?”
“I haven’t been to Boise in over a year.”
Maybe that was what bothered him. Carter couldn’t see Keith at a bar in Boise, hanging out with Bradley. Maybe if Keith’s other friends were Bradley’s type, yeah. But they weren’t. He had Reenie’s kids one weekend and Liz’s the next. And he worked during the week. “Where were you the night the shop was trashed?”
“If it happened late, I suppose I was asleep.”
He lived alone, so he had no one to back up his story. And yet…
Carter rubbed a hand over his jaw. He’d shaved this morning, but he could already feel the stubble that would turn into a dark shadow by dinnertime. “Do you remember what was written on her wall?”
“I won’t play dumb,” Keith said. “Everyone knows it said Go home, bitch. But why would I have anyone write that? I don’t want Liz to go anywhere. Especially with my kids.”
Carter had assumed those words had been meant to upset and intimidate. He hadn’t taken them literally. But what if they were meant literally?
Tossing a few bucks on the table, he stood.
“You’re leaving?” Keith said.
“You’re coming with me,” he replied.
“Where?”
“Boise.”
CARTER BANGED ON the Bradleys’ door, waited a few seconds and banged again. It was noon, so there was a good chance Rocky would just be rolling out of bed.
Mrs. Bradley opened the door before he could knock a third time. She was wearing a flowery dress and had curlers in her hair. And she wasn’t happy to see him. “Oh, no. It’s you.”
“Sorry to trouble you,” Carter said. “But I’d like to speak to Rocky again, if you don’t mind.”
She adjusted the kerchief that covered her pink sponge rollers. “What’s he done this time?”
“Nothing that I know of. I’m only hoping for a few details.”
“He’s not home.”
Carter glanced at the driveway. There were still two cars parked there, but one looked more like a hunk of junk that hadn’t been used in a long while. The red Toyota was gone. “When do you expect him?”
“I sent him to the store for a gallon of milk fifteen minutes ago.”
“Mind if we wait?”
He could tell she did mind, but she shrugged anyway. “Suit yourselves.” Locking the screen door, she left the inside door open and proceeded to vacuum. Then the clink of dishes and the sound of running water rose from the house. After thirty long minutes, Carter knocked again.
“How far away is that store you mentioned?”
“Not far. But we have a wedding in the family, so I told Rocky he needed to pick up my best dress from the cleaner’s this week. Maybe he decided to do it today, since he was already out.”
“Who’s getting married?” he asked, just to keep her talking.
Her expression brightened. “My nephew. He’s a tennis pro,” she confided proudly.
Carter’s gaze locked with Keith’s. Keith opened his mouth to say something that, from his expression, was bound to be indignant, but Carter silenced him with a look and smiled affably at Mrs. Bradley. “He’s good at tennis, huh?”
“Yeah. He lives in L.A., so we rarely get to see him. But I’m going down for the wedding.”
Carter’s blood began to rush through his ears. Go home, bitch. Who wanted Liz to return to L.A. more than anyone else?
“I’m from Southern California,” Carter said. “What’s your nephew’s name? Maybe I’ve heard of him.”
“Dave,” she replied. “Dave Shapiro.”
WHEN CARTER WALKED IN to Liz’s ch
ocolaterie, she was busy helping two customers. Her eyes flicked his way, and she licked her lips as though she was suddenly uncomfortable, but she didn’t acknowledge him.
“Maybe you’d enjoy one of my French creams,” she said to a couple decked out in brand new cowboy hats, western belts and shiny boots. Obviously, they were tourists who’d already visited the gift shop at the Running Y.
“Is a French cream like a butter cream?” the woman asked in obvious confusion.
“No, a good butter cream is made with water, sugar and butter. My French creams are made with whole milk, ultra-heavy cream and butter.” Liz shot Carter another glance. “Turning creams on a marble slab is sort of a lost art, but that’s what I do here.”
“They sound great,” the man said and bought half a dozen. Then the other customer, an older woman, stepped up to the register.
“What do you have with cashews in it?” she asked.
Liz led her to a section of various chocolate-covered nuts and proceeded to explain that she used no peanuts or peanut products. Only the best tree nuts. “Tastes like heaven!” the woman exclaimed as she bit into a sample.
Liz grinned, and Carter couldn’t help smiling proudly. When their eyes met and she blushed prettily, he knew he loved her. Maybe they’d only met five weeks ago, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her. Regardless of the baby. Regardless of Laurel. She offered him what he needed most. Love. Acceptance. Change.
A rebirth.
He supposed he should accept the fact that he’d be spending many years in Dundee, because he could never take Liz away from her shop. If Dave truly loved her, he wouldn’t be able to do it, either.
The woman paid for a pound of chocolate-covered nuts and some caramels, and then the bell rang over the door and he and Liz were alone.
“Where’s your father?” Carter asked.
“At the diner, having dinner.”
“What about you? Have you eaten?”
“He said he’d bring me something.”
“And the kids are—”
“At Reenie’s.” She pulled her gaze away from him as though it took some effort and started straightening up. “Since they found out we’re moving, they beg to stay there as much as possible. I can hardly get them to come home.”
“Then you’d better call them up and tell them you’re not moving, after all,” he said, stepping up to the glass case that separated them. “At least not very far.”
She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m engaged, Carter.”
“You belong to me.”
“Carter—”
“And I belong to you,” he finished.
Wariness entered her eyes, as if she was afraid of how good that sounded. “And what would I tell Dave? That you came through for me after all? That I don’t need him anymore?”
“You can tell him if he ever sends Rocky to Dundee again, I’ll break his jaw.”
Liz’s eyebrows gathered above her hazel eyes. “What?”
“It was Dave,” he said. “He’s the one who had Rocky Bradley do what he did in here.”
“But Rocky’s from Boise—” Recognition dawned on her face. “His cousin?” she gasped.
Carter nodded.
“Wait, Dave’s not like that. Why would he want to hurt me?”
“I guess he was getting tired of waiting for you to return to L.A. And he feared the shop would keep you here indefinitely.”
She brought a hand to her chest. “Poor Keith! He got blamed.”
“That’s what Dave told Rocky to do if he was caught.”
He watched the emotions flicker across her face—surprise, disbelief and then anger. “How could he pin it on an innocent party?”
“Figured you’d believe it, I guess.”
“But how could he do it to me in the first place? He knows how much I love this shop!”
“Maybe we should ask him,” Carter said. “We can do that when we call to tell him that you’re marrying me.” Moving around the display case, he pulled her into his arms. She hesitated for a moment, as if she’d resist. But he took her chin and tilted it up so she had to look at him. “Take a chance on me,” he said.
“What about Laurel?”
“She won’t stand between us. I’ll probably never stop loving her. But she’s gone, Liz. And I’ve accepted that. Loving her doesn’t mean I can’t love you just as much.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve spent the past two weeks making sure, missing you just as badly as I ever missed her.”
A smile lit her face.
“It’s true,” he murmured.
“You wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t.”
He chuckled. “See? You know me pretty damn well.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and snuggled closer. “Where will we live?”
“Here. I’ll build you a house with a white picket fence and a large yard for Mica and Chris. And I’ll make a cradle for our child.” He touched her flat stomach, finding it hard to believe there was already a baby growing inside.
“What will you do once the campaign is over?”
“Maybe I’ll build houses.”
“You’re good with your hands,” she breathed, grinning suggestively.
“I do believe you’re coming on to me,” he said. “Maybe we should close up shop for a few minutes so we can reacquaint ourselves with what we’ve been missing.”
She brushed the hair out of his eyes, then sobered. “What about all those boxes in the cabin? Could you really be happy staying in one place?”
“As long as I have you,” he said, and then he kissed her.
EPILOGUE
CARTER SAT IN THE ROCKING CHAIR at the rental he and Liz would soon vacate in favor of the house he was building, and stared down at the bundle in his arms. His son was nearly four months old. Jeremy probably would’ve slept through the night; he was starting to do that. But Carter had slipped into his room and jiggled him so he’d have an excuse to pick him up. The child’s sweet innocence, his complete trust and dependence, even the feel of his downy head, satisfied something Carter couldn’t even begin to understand.
He knew Laurel would’ve loved having a baby. A child might have made up for some of the ugliness she’d experienced. It had certainly made a difference to him. Slowly but surely he could sense his old idealism returning, could feel the taint of Hooper’s crimes fading as he became more and more involved in his family, his new construction business, Liz’s shop, and the small town he’d never dreamed he’d call home. He had too much to be grateful for to lament the past. He’d always be sorry about what had happened to Laurel, but the love he felt for his first wife was becoming a pale shadow next to what he felt for Liz, Mica, Chris and Jeremy.
After kissing his son’s head, he returned the baby to his crib and walked down the hall, eager to climb into bed with his wife.
“What is it?” Liz asked when he entered the room. She muted the television and looked up at him as if she could tell by his expression that he had more than their nightly routines on his mind.
“I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“The Lady of Shalott,” he said.
Her smile broadened. “What about her?”
“I like our ending better.”
She pulled him into her arms and let him kiss her deeply. “So do I.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3664-0
THE OTHER WOMAN
Copyright © 2006 by Brenda Novak
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the aut
hor and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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*Dundee, Idaho
*Dundee, Idaho
*Dundee, Idaho
*Dundee, Idaho
*Dundee, Idaho
*Dundee, Idaho
