MILLS & BOON

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      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter One

      Brent Borden pulled his flatbed truck onto the quiet, tree-lined street. The road was not a direct route from the lumberyard to the construction site—far from it—and he’d be the first to admit that he’d driven by the church on purpose. According to the clock on the dashboard, the ceremony would start any minute, so he couldn’t have said exactly what he was looking for. Closure, maybe. But he sure as hell never expected to see the bride running down the sidewalk.

      Barefoot.

      In the rain.

      Away from the church.

      He eased off the accelerator and peered through the blurred windshield. It was Leslie, all right. So he did what anyone would have done. He pulled over, leaned across the cab and wound down the window.

      “Need a ride?”

      FOR THE first time in her life, Leslie Durrance had no idea where she was going and, furthermore, she didn’t care. Anything would be better than what she had just left behind. Except maybe this. She had no intention of accepting help from a free-and-easy construction worker who also happened to be her brother’s best friend and, quite possibly, the most annoying man in the world.

      “Hey, need a ride?” he asked again.

      She slowed her pace but kept moving. “No, thank you.”

      “Are you lost?”

      She hitched the soggy skirt of the satin and lace Armani gown a little higher and shook her head.

      “I see.” His truck inched along beside her. “Do you know you’re going in the wrong direction?”

      She stopped then and glared at him through the partly open window. “I know exactly what I’m doing and where I’m going.”

      He braked. “So you don’t need a lift?”

      She wanted to say no, but the inside of his truck looked very inviting. Warm and dry, and just about the last place anyone in Collingwood Station would look for her.

      As though he sensed her hesitation, he leaned across the cab and opened the door. “Hop in.”

      What choice did she have? It wouldn’t be long before someone came looking for her, and looking for answers.

      She hiked up her dress and climbed into the truck.

      “Where to?” Brent’s voice held a hint of concern but he seemed surprisingly nonplussed by the ridiculousness of the situation.

      Where could she go? Not to her town house, or to her mother’s house. Those would be the first two places people would look for her. Her office building was closed on Saturdays and she didn’t have the keys with her. She was too mortified to go to any of her friends for help. Besides, they were all still inside the church. A hotel? Not without some cash and a credit card.

      She had no plan and no place to go, and some crazy twist of fate had landed her in the cab of a truck with a man she’d rejected more times than she could count.

      “Why did you stop?” she asked. “After all the things I’ve said to you over the years, it wouldn’t have surprised me if you’d just driven by.”

      The wounded look that flickered in his eyes was one she’d seen before. “You really think that little of me?” he asked, running his hand through his dark wavy hair that was, as it always had been, just a tad too long to be manageable.

      She lowered her gaze and realized she was still clutching the stupid shoes she’d taken off so she could run faster. “No. Right now, that’s how little I think of myself.”

      He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he reached behind the seat and pulled out a jean jacket. “You must be cold. Lean forward a bit.”

      She was too numb to feel anything, but she couldn’t stop shivering, so he was probably right.

      He draped the faded denim around her shoulders and she snuggled into it.

      The workmanlike scent of sawdust was oddly comforting. “Do you think we could just drive around for a while till I figure out what to do?” This morning she’d thought this New England summer storm might ruin her wedding. Now it was the least of her worries.

      “You’re soaking wet and you want drive around town with a truckload of lumber?”

      No. She wanted to crawl under a rock and die. She turned to face him and his eyes softened immediately.

      “How ’bout we go to my place?” he suggested.

      Nice try, she thought. “You can’t be serious.”

      “This isn’t high school, Leslie. I’m not going to make a pass at you. You can get dried off and warmed up, and take all the time you need to figure out what you want to do. But if you have a better idea—”

      She felt like an idiot. He was being very sweet about this, a lot sweeter than she deserved. “Thank you. Your place will be fine.”

      SLOWLY MANEUVERING the oversized truck through town gave him the opportunity to glance at her from time to time. “You want to talk about what happened?”

      “No.”

      “Okay. I wasn’t trying to pry or anything. Just thought you might want to—”

      “I don’t want to talk about it.”

      “Got it. I live across town. We’ll be there in five minutes or so.”

      They made the drive in silence, during which he was acutely aware of the change from the stately old residences that surrounded the church to the much smaller and often rundown houses in his neighborhood. The drive also gave him time to ponder this unexpected turn of events. Whatever it was that had made her run, it had to be serious. Leslie Durrance didn’t do things like this. For as long as he’d known her, which had been pretty much his whole life, he couldn’t ever remember her doing anything impulsive. She’d been on the honor roll and the student council. Then she’d gone to college and law school, just like everyone knew she would. She’d been the prettiest girl in school