Kitabı oxu: «His Best Friend's Wife»

She moved to pass him, but he didn’t immediately step out of the way, bringing them even closer together.

His gaze held hers when he reached up unexpectedly to brush the ends of her angled bob, his fingertips just brushing her cheek. “Your hair is different,” he murmured. “Shorter and darker.”

Self-conscious, she shrugged. “I stopped bleaching it. And it’s easier to wear it shorter with my busy schedule now.”

“It looks good.”

Uncertain how to take the compliment, she merely said, “Thank you.”

He continued to search her face, as if noting every slight difference. “More than just your hair has changed.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” she answered with forced lightness. “I was just a kid when we met, now I’m a thirty-year-old mother of school-age twins. Of course I’ve changed.”

“You were a pretty girl,” he replied. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

Her eyes closed for just a moment, her cheeks going warm. His simple statement had rocked her to her toes.

Dear Reader,

Friends who become lovers has always been one of my favorite romance themes—mostly because I think friendship is an important basis for any lasting relationship. My husband, John, and I have been best friends and partners for more than thirty years, and that foundation has sustained us through both the good times and the inevitable challenges life has thrown our way.

In His Best Friend’s Wife, I added a few extra complications. The tangled emotions Evan and Renae have about her late husband—his best friend—her six-year-old twins, and her very present, very meddling and very antagonistic-toward-Evan mother-in-law, Lucy. Not only does Evan have to woo Renae, he has to somehow convince Lucy to give him a chance in the tightly knit family unit they’ve formed. The odds are stacked against him, but he believes it’s worth the effort, if he can only persuade Renae …

I hope you enjoy this story I had so much pleasure writing for you. Visit me at my blog site, ginawilkins.com, or my Facebook page for news about upcoming Mills & Boon^® releases!

Gina Wilkins

About the Author

GINA WILKINS is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms Wilkins sold her first book to Mills & Boon in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of a Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of RT Book Reviews.

His Best
Friend’s Wife
Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my husband and best friend, John

Chapter One

“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning …”

—Joseph Priestley

“Excuse me? Is this where I sign in for my appointment with Dr. Sternberg?”

Renae Sanchez picked up a stack of clipboards for the sign-in counter of the optometrists’ office where she worked as office manager. Pasting a professional smile on her face, she turned to greet the man who’d spoken from the other side of the open reception window.

The clipboards hit the floor with a crash that made several people in the waiting room jump in their seats. Embarrassed, Renae gave them an apologetic look before gathering the scattered clipboardsand attempting to collect her composure. Only then did she approach the counter—and the man from her past who waited there.

Except for the slight hint of gray at the temples of his conservatively cut, coffee-colored hair, Evan Daugherty looked much the same as he had the last time she had seen him almost seven years ago, as a pallbearer at her late husband’s funeral.

In his early thirties, Evan’s face was slightly more tanned now from years of working outdoors, and the little squint lines that had developed at the corners of his dark eyes only added to the appeal of his ruggedly attractive features. He’d had tears in those dark brown eyes the last time she’d seen him. He smiled now—though his smile froze when she faced him fully.

She had identified him at first glance, but it seemed to have taken him a heartbeat longer to make the connection. Had she changed so much in the past seven years? She had been twenty-three, six months pregnant with twins and in a haze of shock and grief when they last parted. Seeing him now sent those long-banked feelings flooding through her again—in addition to other complex reactions to Evan himself.

Working especially hard to ignore the latter emotions, she kept her expression carefully schooled when she set the clipboards on the counter. “Hello, Evan.”

Tactfully, he merely glanced at the clipboards, declining to comment on her clumsy response to the sight of him. “Renae. This is a surprise.”

“For me, too,” she agreed. “I didn’t see your name on the appointment list.”

She wasn’t usually the one who checked in clients, but as her luck would have it, Lisa was at lunch and Cathy was busy with a phone call.

“You’re looking well.” Though Evan spoke easily, Renae sensed that he felt as awkward as she did about this unexpected reunion.

Or was she merely projecting? Was she the only one suddenly remembering a forbidden kiss on a tumultuous night that had sporadically haunted her dreams—and sometimes her unguarded waking moments—for almost a decade?

All too aware that they were being idly watched by the waiting clients whose attention had been drawn by the crashing clipboards, she kept her tone as politely professional as she could, considering the turmoil inside her. “What can I do for you, Evan?”

“Oh. Right. I have an appointment with Dr. Sternberg. I just need to give you my insurance information.”

He offered her an insurance card and she was pleased—and somewhat surprised—to note that her hand was steady as she took it from him and handed him a clipboard in return. “I’ll make a copy of this for your file. If you’ll have a seat and fill out this new-patient form, Dr. Sternberg will be with you shortly.”

He hesitated before turning away, looking as though he found their brief, strictly business exchange unsatisfying. “How are the twins?”

“They’re well, thank you. Growing like weeds.” She almost winced at hearing the overused cliché from her own lips, but it was the best she could do just then.

“Excuse me, Renae, you have a call on line three.”

She turned gratefully in response to the welcome interruption. “Thank you, Cathy. Will you make a copy of Mr. Daugherty’s insurance information, please?”

“Of course.”

With a coolly civil nod to Evan, Renae took the phone call. She handled the business issue swiftly, then murmured an excuse to Cathy and escaped to the employees’ restroom. Once there, she would have splashed cold water on her face, but she didn’t want to wash off the makeup she’d barely had time to apply earlier after dressing hastily for work in a simple lavender sweater and gray pants. Instead, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts.

Barely fifteen minutes ago, she had asked aloud, “Could anything else go wrong today?” Having Evan Daugherty walk into her place of business out of the blue must be her punishment for tempting fate.

This October Tuesday morning had been hectic from the moment her alarm blasted her out of bed at 6:00 a.m. The twins dashed around the house frantically searching for shoes and backpacks, complaining about the healthy lunches she packed for them, suddenly remembering they were supposed to take a favorite stuffed animal because Tuesday was “animal kingdom day” in first grade. That led to lengthy debates about the toys to choose, which necessitated sharp words from Renae to keep them from being late, which, in turn, caused Renae’s live-in mother-in-law, Lucy, to give Renae wounded looks for snapping at her precious grandchildren.

Lucy knew better than to openly challenge Renae’s authority.

By the time the twins were safely delivered to school and Renae arrived at work, the usual chaos there was almost a welcome relief.

As the office manager for two young optometrists, Renae performed many duties along with the two office workers she supervised, Cathy and Lisa. She answered phones, handled insurance claims, kept records for the accountant, checked in patients and scheduled appointments when necessary—anything she had to do to keep the office running with the efficiency she took such pride in. Two optometry assistants worked with Ann Boshears and Gary Sternberg, the married couple who’d moved to North Little Rock, Arkansas, a year earlier to set up their practice. They had hired Renae after she’d seen their ad in the newspaper—a nice promotion from the clerical position she’d held before in another medical office.

Renae had worked well from the start with Ann and Gary, and liked all her coworkers to varying degrees. As much as she loved her children and her mother-in-law, it was nice having a life away from home. She needed this outside interaction with other people, needed to feel that she was a competent, intelligent, self-sufficient woman in addition to being a mom and a daughter.

Yet all it had taken was an unexpected encounter with Evan Daugherty to undo her hard-earned progress and send her spinning back into the emotional mess she’d been when he had first met her almost ten years ago. Angry with herself, she drew a deep, bracing breath and opened her eyes, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. She thought she’d done a decent job of hiding her reactions from Evan and any onlookers, not counting that one paralyzed moment when the clipboards had tumbled to the floor. Now it was time to pull herself together and get back to work.

It had probably been inevitable that she would run into Evan again sometime. After all, they lived in adjacent cities in Central Arkansas, and worked in the same metropolitan area surrounding the capital city of Little Rock. Because he’d stayed in touch once a year through Christmas cards with formal little notes written inside, she knew he’d moved back to the area three years ago after a stint in the army. A few months later, he had started a landscape design business with Tate Price, an old friend who had also known her late husband, Jason.

Probably the only reason their paths hadn’t crossed before now was because they had both avoided chance encounters as much as possible. It had been stressful enough hearing from him through the mail a few times lately in regard to the scholarship he and Tate had recently established in her husband’s memory.

Feeling her responsibilities calling her, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and left the restroom, glad to see that Evan was no longer in the waiting room. He must be in with Dr. Sternberg. She hoped Lisa would get back from lunch so Renae could leave before he came out again. As cowardly as it made her feel, she would just as soon avoid another awkwardly public exchange with him today.

No such luck. Renae hadn’t yet had a chance to escape when Evan reappeared just as she delivered a file to Cathy, putting them both at the payment window at the same time.

“I’m just leaving for lunch. Cathy will take your payment,” she said, nodding pleasantly to him when he looked at her as though expecting her to say something. “It was good to see you again, Evan.”

Cordial and poised. Exactly the tone she’d hoped to achieve, she applauded herself.

“Good to see you, too, Renae.” He glanced at her coworkers before saying tentatively, “Actually, I’ve been wanting to contact you about the scholarship program. Maybe we could have a bite together and discuss it?”

Sitting near enough to overhear, Cathy cleared her throat noisily and gave Renae a look that made it clear she thought she should accept Evan’s offer. No surprise—Cathy was always trying to fix her up with someone, and she would no doubt view Evan as an attractive, charming and intriguing possibility. Which, of course, he would be, had it not been for the convoluted history between them.

“I’m sorry, Evan, I have an appointment,” she lied without compunction, unable to face the thought of sitting across a little table from him without more preparation. But because she was interested in hearing about the scholarship progress, she scribbled her number and handed it to him. “Call any evening after work and I’d be happy to discuss the scholarship with you.”

She could handle talking with Evan on the phone, she assured herself. Maybe the painful emotions wouldn’t assail her so forcefully if she weren’t looking at him while they talked. Maybe she would be less likely to embarrass herself with her awkward reactions to him, the way she had today.

If he was disappointed that she’d declined his lunch invitation, it didn’t show on his face when he folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of the navy twill shirt he wore with neatly pressed khakis. “I’ll be in contact.”

She nodded, ignored Cathy’s frown of disapproval and turned to make a determinedly dignified—if still hasty—escape.

She drove several blocks away, pulled into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant and buried her face in her hands, only then letting the memories overwhelm her.

Six hours later, Evan sat in his living room, staring glumly out at the Little Rock skyline across the Arkansas River from his fifth-floor apartment. He lived on the North Little Rock side of the river, driving across the Broadway Bridge every morning to the office of Price-Daugherty Landscape Design, the company he owned with his longtime friend, Tate Price. He’d chosen this place specifically for this view. He had spent too many evenings since admiring it alone.

He’d known since he’d moved back to this area that Renae Ingle Sanchez lived on the other side of that river. He had made no effort to seek her out since his return, communicating with her only by regular mail—a Christmas card every year for the past six years, and more recently information about the scholarship he and his business partner had established in her late husband’s honor. He’d always wondered when they would run into each other again, figuring it would have to happen sometime, but he certainly hadn’t been prepared to do so today.

Judging by the way those clipboards had hit the floor at her feet, she hadn’t been prepared, either. Or had that moment of clumsiness had nothing to do with her seeing him standing there?

How many times had he thought about calling her, trying to see her? Too many to count. Yet something always held him back. Something that felt suspiciously like guilt. And maybe uncertainty about how she would react to hearing from him. After all, Renae’s mother-in-law had once openly blamed Evan for Jason’s death. While Renae hadn’t echoed the words, she hadn’t spoken out in Evan’s defense, either.

He’d wondered if that was because she hadn’t wanted to further upset her mother-in-law—or if it was because she agreed, even subconsciously, that Evan bore some responsibility for the tragedy. He had tried since to convince himself that while her silence might have hurt his feelings a little, he understood that she’d been in a bad place emotionally and hadn’t been thinking clearly. He couldn’t be angry with her any more than he could with Jason’s inconsolable mother.

There were other emotions tangled up in his memories of Renae, but he didn’t want to dwell on them too deeply at the moment. He confined himself to thinking about their encounter today.

She had changed. At first, he hadn’t even been certain the woman behind the reception desk really was Renae. But when she’d looked at him straight on and he’d seen her eyes, there had been no doubt.

Though she had been polite enough, he couldn’t say she had been particularly warm in greeting him. He supposed that made sense; there was too much history between them for a chance encounter to be easy and breezy. Not to mention that their surprise reunion was rather public. He hadn’t been able to read her expression well enough to tell whether seeing him was merely awkward for her or genuinely painful.

He had found her attractive in her early twenties—too much so since she’d been the girlfriend and then the wife of one of his best friends—but she was even prettier at the dawn of her thirties. He remembered her hair being long and tousled, bleached to near white. Now she wore it in a sleek, darker blond bob that nicely framed her oval face. Her eyes looked larger and softer without the black eyeliner she’d favored back then, but they were still the vivid blue he remembered so clearly. Of average height, she was still slim. Maybe she’d gained a few pounds, but the soft curves looked good on her. Womanly, as opposed to girlish.

He knew she hadn’t remarried, but he didn’t know if she was seeing anyone. Did a working, single mom of six-and-a-half-year-old twins even have time to go out? Not that it was any of his business. She had made that clear enough at Jason’s funeral, when she and Jason’s mother had walked away from him without a backward glance.

It hadn’t been the first time he and Renae had parted painfully. Two years earlier, while she was still dating Jason, they had shared one illicit kiss, spurred by forbidden infatuation and a few too many drinks. Though they had never crossed that line again, the attraction between them that night had been strong. Ill-advised, but mutual.

Did she ever wonder, as he did occasionally, what might have happened had he handled that episode differently?

Shaking his head in irritation, he pushed himself out of his chair and his memories. He had things to do tonight. He would call Renae, but when he did, it would be strictly about scholarship business. The past was just that—over and done. They had new lives now, new responsibilities. It was far too late for what-might-have-beens.

He’d have to remind himself of that every time those old memories escaped the deep hole where he’d buried them years ago, until he finally convinced himself.

“Mom, Daniel’s feeding Boomer from the table again.”

“Am not!” Daniel set both hands hastily on the table, an exaggeratedly innocent look on his face.

Renae glanced at the small brown-and-white dog happily chewing something beneath her son’s chair. “Don’t fib, Daniel. And don’t feed the dog from the table or I’m going to have to put him in the backyard when we eat.”

Daniel sighed gustily, his dark hair falling over his forehead. Renae made a mental note to take him for a haircut Saturday. She would have had Lucy take him one day after school, but Lucy always insisted the barber cut Daniel’s hair shorter than he liked now that he was in first grade. Renae figured some battles just weren’t worth the trouble. Daniel was old enough to start expressing his preferences in clothing and hair-style—within the limits Renae set, of course.

“Hunter got in trouble in school again today,” Leslie said, indulging in her favorite pastime of gossiping about her classmates over dinner. “He wouldn’t stop playing with his crayons when it was time for math lessons. Ms. Rice took his crayons away and he was mad.”

“Hunter should listen to the teacher,” Lucy said with a disapproving shake of her salt-and-pepper head. “I hope you two are behaving in your classes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused dutifully.

It had been at Renae’s request that her children had been assigned to separate classes. They got along very well for the most part, for which she was grateful, but she thought it was good for them to form relationships as individuals and not just as “the twins.”

“You aren’t eating much this evening,” Lucy commented, eyeing Renae’s plate with a frown. Short, plump and matronly, widowed for almost two decades, Lucy dressed and often acted older than her fifty-nine years, resisting any attempts to modernize what Renae thought of as her housewife-y wardrobe, or to add any new activities to her life. She was content to keep house for her daughter-in-law and grandchildren, and attend the many church activities that kept her occupied while the kids were in school. “Aren’t you feeling well? Do you not like the food?”

“The food is excellent, as always, Lucy,” Renae answered patiently, taking a bite of the beef carnitas just to prove her point. Washing it down with a sip of peach-flavored iced tea, she then explained, “I had a late lunch today, so I’m not overly hungry tonight.”

Lucy’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you just took a turkey sandwich and a few carrot sticks for lunch. I figured you would be hungry tonight.”

Lucy hadn’t actually prepared the sandwich, because Renae insisted on making lunches for herself and the twins. It was one of the little things she did to make herself feel that she was pulling her weight around the house, despite Lucy taking the bulk of the cleaning and cooking. Still, Lucy kept an eye on what went out of “her” kitchen in brown bags and decorated lunch boxes.

Renae was reluctant to admit she’d left her turkey sandwich in the office fridge when she’d bolted after seeing Evan. She hadn’t mentioned that encounter to Lucy yet, though she supposed she should. Maybe she would wait until the twins were in bed, and then try to find a way to break the news without unduly upsetting her mother-in-law, who still bristled whenever Evan’s name came up after all these years.

Daniel squirmed restlessly in his seat, making Boomer wag his tail frantically in anticipation of fun. “I’m done with my dinner—may I go play now?”

“We have dessert,” his grandmother reminded him, momentarily distracted from Renae’s lack of appetite. “Fruit tarts.”

Looking torn, Daniel glanced from his waiting pup toward the kitchen. “Can I have dessert later? I’m full.”

“Go play for an hour, then you can have dessert after your bath,” Renae agreed. “Leslie, do you want yours now or later?”

“Later,” Leslie decided. “We’re going to teach Boomer how to fetch.”

“Good luck with that,” Lucy said with a laugh and a shake of her head as the twins carried their plates and silverware carefully to the kitchen, accompanied by the eager dog. They would leave the plates on the counter by the sink for now, but when they were a little older, Renae would teach them to rinse and stack them in the dishwasher. She thought it important that both her children perform daily chores, so that everyone in the household made a contribution to its smooth functioning.

With her usual tenacity, Lucy returned her attention to Renae. “Are you not feeling well? Something seems to be off with you this evening.”

Since the children were out of the room, Renae figured she might as well get this behind them. “There’s something I need to tell you. A new patient came to the clinic today. Turns out it was someone we know.”

“Oh?” Lucy stacked her fork and knife on her empty plate and laid her napkin on the table beside it. “Who was it?”

“Evan Daugherty.”

She could almost feel the chill that settled over the room. Lucy froze in her chair, her eyes blackening to polished ebony. “Evan Daugherty showed up at your office today?”

“Yes. He had an appointment with Dr. Sternberg.”

Every muscle in Lucy’s body seemed to have gone stiff. “Why is he coming around you now? What does he want?”

“Lucy, his visit had nothing to do with me. He didn’t even know I work for Dr. Sternberg.”

The sharp sound she made clearly expressed Lucy’s skepticism. “Did he try to talk to you?”

“We exchanged greetings. He asked about the twins.”

“Their welfare is none of his business.”

“He was merely being polite. People were watching.”

“Is he coming back?”

“I don’t know. If he made another appointment, it wasn’t through me.”

Lucy shook her head. “I hope he stays away. That man is bad news.”

Renae moistened her lips with a sip of tea and braced herself for the reaction to her next admission. “I gave him my phone number. He’s going to call sometime to discuss the scholarship he and Tate started in Jason’s memory.”

Predictably, Lucy scowled in disapproval. “You gave him your number? He must have pressured you into that. He’s very good at talking people into things.”

“He did not pressure me. He said he wanted to talk with me about the scholarship and I gave him the number because I think it’s a worthy cause. Simple as that.”

Even the mention of the scholarship founded in her late son’s honor didn’t soften Lucy’s expression. “Don’t get mixed up with him, Renae. Evan Daugherty brings trouble. He was always getting my Jason into scrapes when they were boys and then he talked him into going out on those motorcycles when Jason should have been home with you getting ready for his babies.”

There was a distinct quiver in her voice when she finished. Lucy held Evan responsible for Jason having the motorcycle in the first place. Evan had bought a used bike during his first year of college for commuting to classes, and Jason had subsequently decided he wanted one, too. Because Evan had helped Jason find a good deal, Lucy had always insisted that Evan had all but coerced her son into buying a dangerous motorbike.

Renae didn’t have the heart to remind Lucy that Jason had been the one who had stubbornly insisted on going on that last ride, even though he had promised Renae he’d help her work on the nursery that weekend. Jason had argued with her, saying he wouldn’t have many chances to get away once the kids arrived, and Renae had capitulated—as she so often had with Jason. Neither of them could have known, of course, that he would never return. That his life would end that afternoon beneath the wheels of a car that had sped through a stop sign without even slowing down.

Renae had been grateful ever since that she and Jason had parted with a kiss, despite the earlier quarrel, instead of hard words.

“This scholarship is important to me, Lucy,” she said, trying to make her tone both firm and gentle at the same time. “The Jason Sanchez Memorial Scholarship will help young men go to college who might not have gone otherwise, and you know that would mean a lot to Jason.”

At the time of his death, Jason had been a high school history teacher. Having already obtained his master’s degree in history, he was just starting to work toward a doctorate degree, with the ultimate goal of teaching at a college level. A scholarship for at-risk young men was the perfect way to honor his memory, and despite her complex emotions concerning Evan Daugherty, Renae had been gratified to hear that one college freshman had already benefited from the effort.

“It was very generous of Evan and Tate to start this scholarship, and I’d like to be informed occasionally of its progress,” she reiterated. “That doesn’t mean I’ll be getting mixed up with either of them.”

“They’re both trouble,” Lucy repeated in an unhappy mutter. “Especially Evan.”

Renae couldn’t necessarily disagree with that, though her own reasons for thinking of Evan as trouble were distinctly different from Lucy’s.

“I’ll keep your warnings in mind.” She stood and started gathering dirty dishes and glassware. There was no need to continue this conversation now. Lucy was in no mood to concede that Evan had any good intentions, and Renae was committed to supporting the scholarship effort in whatever way she could. Even if that meant crossing paths—or at least phone calls—occasionally with Evan, a prospect that made her pulse rate flutter erratically and annoyingly as she helped her mother-in-law clear away the remains of their dinner.

Evan called Thursday evening. Winding down from a day of school followed by Tae Kwon Do lessons, the twins, already bathed and in pajamas, sprawled on the floor watching their allotted hour of television. Lucy knitted on the couch while Renae read in her favorite easy chair. It was a rare quiet hour in the usually bustling household and the summons from Renae’s cell phone was an intrusion despite the musical ringtone.

As if suspecting the identity of the caller, Lucy frowned. “Who is calling at this hour?”

Glancing at the ID screen, Renae swallowed. “I’ll take it in another room. Kids, start getting ready for bed as soon as that program is over.”

Without taking their attention from the television, they nodded. Renae lifted the phone to her ear as she left the room, avoiding her mother-in-law’s disapproving stare. “Hello?”

Though she’d seen his name on the screen, Renae’s stomach still tightened when she heard the deep voice in her ear. “Hi, Renae. I hope this isn’t a bad time to call?”

She stepped into her tidy bedroom and closed the door. “No, it’s fine.”

“I mentioned to Tate that I saw you Tuesday. He said to tell you hello.”

“Tell him hello back for me,” she said lightly, sitting on the edge of her still-made bed.

“I will. So, anyway, he and I talked about the scholarship and we think we need to have a formal-ish meeting about it. You know, to get some guidelines in writing and figure out how to promote it and start seeking applications. We’ve been pretty haphazard about it so far, choosing Tate’s new brother-in-law for the first recipient sort of impulsively—anyway, we want to do this correctly from now on. And we both wondered if you would like to be involved.”

She followed his somewhat disjointed remarks with a baffled frown. “Involved in what way?”

“You know,” he said, “working with us to outline the qualifications. Maybe read through applications and help us make our selections. That sort of thing. We’ve never administered a scholarship before, so this is all new to us.”