you guarding the door?”
His tail wagged in response.
“Good boy. Is Brent home yet?”
The dog cocked his head to one side.
“I take it that means no.” Besides, the house was small enough that she would have heard him come in. “Is it okay if I have a look around?”
The tiny hallway was lined with doors. Aside from the bathroom, there were two closets and two bedrooms. Both bedroom doors were open. The one with the huge four-poster bed and chest of drawers must be Brent’s. The other had a desk, a small bookcase crammed with books and magazines, and a neatly made single bed. Until now she hadn’t given any thought to where she might spend the night, but found herself hoping it would be here. Too bad there was no way to let Gerald know she’d be spending the night with another man.
Except Brent hadn’t offered to keep her overnight.
And even if he did, she wouldn’t technically be spending the night with him. But then Gerald wouldn’t need to know that.
Max disappeared into Brent’s bedroom, but she decided not to follow. Instead she went through to the living room.
Max loped into the room behind her, carrying a gray teddy bear in his mouth.
“How adorable are you? Is that your favorite toy?”
He set the bear on the floor between them.
“Are you giving it to me?”
He wagged his back end.
She reached for the bear but he grabbed it and dashed out of reach.
“So that’s how it’s going to be.” She clapped her hands and Max trotted ahead of her into the kitchen. Leslie followed. No doubt he expected her to chase him, but first she had to dry her underwear and there was no laundry equipment in here.
Surely he had a washer and dryer? She returned to the hallway by the bathroom and opened a pair of folding doors. Sure enough, there was a washer and dryer. She took a quick look at the care tag sewn into her bra. It wasn’t supposed to go in the dryer but desperate times…
“As if ruined lingerie is the worst thing that could happen today.” She tossed both garments into the dryer and closed the door. Five minutes on low should do it, she decided. With any luck she’d be wearing them by the time Brent returned.
She went back to the kitchen. She loved well-equipped kitchens, and Brent had done an amazing job of fixing up this one. It even had an old wood-burning cookstove that appeared to have been converted to gas. She was impressed.
Max dropped his bear on the floor next to an empty bowl and gazed up at her. As if she wasn’t already falling for the silly mutt, his pleading look was completely irresistible.
“Your dish is empty. Would you like something to eat?”
His tongue rolled out the side of his mouth.
“Poor Max. Where does Brent keep your food?”
She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. “It’s one thing to talk to a dog. Waiting for an answer is a good indication that you’re losing your mind.”
She opened the fridge. Three bottles of beer, an empty pizza box and an assortment of individual-sized condiments. In spite of the impressive kitchen, it appeared that Brent ate out a lot. And there was no dog food. She opened the cupboard nearest the dog’s empty dish.
Max leaped to his feet, nearly knocking her over in the process, and raced back and forth across the kitchen.
Inside the cupboard was an enormous bag of doggie kibble. She peered into the bag and saw a red plastic scoop. “How much am I supposed to give you?”
For heaven’s sake, Leslie, stop asking him questions. She hauled the bag out of the cupboard and read the daily portions, which were broken down by weight.
How much did Max weigh?
At least this time she hadn’t asked him. She dumped a scoopful of food into the bowl and Max dove into it eagerly. “That should do for now. If you’re supposed to get more, Brent can give it to you when he gets home.”
But now that Max had something to eat, he couldn’t be less interested in her.
The dryer buzzed. Dry underwear! She hurried back to the hallway, pulled the two items out of the dryer, took them into the bathroom and locked the door. She shed Brent’s clothes as quickly as she could and put on her bra and panties. Who knew warm underwear felt this good? She’d have to do this more often. She pulled the shirt and sweat pants back on and tightened the drawstring on her way back to the kitchen.
The ring of the telephone startled her. She had no intention of answering but instinctively she glanced at the call display.
C. Girling.
Cappuccino Girl?
No. They’d gone to high school with someone named Cathy Girling, but she was not the woman who’d been with Brent that day at the deli. However, Cathy had been one of the glamour girls in the gaggle of admirers that had followed him around the school. Was Brent seeing her? She’d never seemed like his type.
Not that it’s any of your business.
A red light on the phone started to blink. Whoever she was, she’d left a message.
Leslie hefted the dog food bag back into the cupboard and glanced again at the phone. She should call someone and let them know where she was, or at least that she was all right, and she should definitely check her own messages.
She picked up the phone and called Nick. Luckily she reached his answering machine and not him. She left a longer-than-necessary message, telling him she was okay but not where she was or what had happened. They’d drifted apart since they were teenagers and she regretted that. Great as it was that they’d reconnected in the past few weeks, she wasn’t ready to hear what he had to say about this disaster.
After she hung up, she called her voice mail to check her messages. There was one from Nick. “Call me,” was all he said. Three were from a frantic-sounding Allison, who had already sent her husband to check Leslie’s town house and the law office where she worked. There was one from her mother, sternly demanding that she return her call immediately, and two of the calls had been hang-ups. Gerald? He wouldn’t call, would he? But trust him not to have the guts to leave a message if he did.
She hung up and looked around the kitchen again. It was neat and tidy, except for a few dishes in the sink. There was no dishwasher and without giving much thought to what she was doing, she filled the sink with hot, soapy water.
The tag on Max’s collar jangled loudly against the metal bowl as he wolfed down his lunch. “Must be good stuff, Max,” she said.
“You didn’t have to wash those.”
She dropped the pot she was scrubbing, splashing herself with soapy water as she whirled around. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Brent had a wide smile but his eyebrows suggested he was a little puzzled. He pointed to Max. “He swindled you into feeding him, did he?”
“His bowl was empty and he seemed hungry, so I thought I’d feed him for you.”
The dog looked up from his once-again-empty bowl and licked his chops.
Brent ruffled the fur on the top of his head. “Max, you old rascal.”
Leslie dried her hands on a dish towel. “I wasn’t supposed to feed him?”
“He only gets fed once a day. I put his food out in the evening.”
“I’m so sorry. Will he be all right?”
Brent laughed. “He’ll be fine, except now he likes you better than me.”
Max was clearly devoted