Читать книгу Husband Next Door - Anne Ha - Страница 7

By the time her doorbell rang, Shelly Carpenter had been pacing the hardwood floor of her apartment for nearly an hour. She sighed with relief, crossed the living room and raised herself up on her toes to peer through the peephole. Pleased by the sight that met her, she unlocked the door and opened it wide.

Her neighbor lounged against the porch railing. A tall, dark-haired man in his early thirties, he wore jeans and a black leather jacket to protect him from the chill of the evening.

“Ms. Carpenter,” he drawled in greeting.

Shelly’s poise deserted her. She’d waited hours to share the news. She’d planned the perfect speech. Now she couldn’t remember a word of it. “Eric asked me to marry him,” she blurted.

Taking an anxious breath, she waited for a response.

None came. Across the threshold, Aaron Carpenter stared back at her without a flicker of emotion on his face. Several seconds ticked by.

Finally, when Shelly was wondering whether he’d heard her at all, her next-door neighbor raised an eyebrow. “And…?”

“That’s it,” she said. “Today at lunch.”

“At lunch, eh?” Aaron absently stroked his jaw. It was a strong jaw, square cut, and darkened with five o’clock shadow. “Well…I didn’t expect this to happen so soon. But it’s not a total surprise either.”

“Really?” Shelly suppressed a nervous laugh. “I think it’s pretty sudden.” They still stood in the doorway. She stepped back so Aaron could enter her apartment.

He studied her. “So…? Did you accept?”

She bit her lip as she locked the door. “No,” she said at last. “That is, not yet.”

“But you’re going to?”

“I think so…. It’s not something I can rush into, though.”

Aaron strolled to the couch and sat down, relaxing into his usual sprawl. “That’s probably a wise idea,” he said. “After all, it’s quite a major decision. Take your time, think it over carefully.” He indicated a steno pad she’d left on the coffee table. “Maybe you should make a list of pros and cons,” he suggested jokingly.

Shelly felt herself flush.

Aaron, watching her, chuckled softly. “I see,” he said. His blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. “What did you come up with?”

Shelly perched on the couch. The steno pad lay directly in front of her, and she flattened her palm on top of it. “Nothing…nothing conclusive.” She tried to slide the pad out of his reach, but his hand snaked out and took hold of a corner.

“Not so fast,” he said. “Didn’t I show you the letter Marcia wrote me? It can’t be more embarrassing than that, can it?”

She looked at him uncertainly.

He released his grip and held out his hand. “Shelly,” he said, “don’t play hard to get. If you really didn’t want me to see it, you would have hidden it before you answered the door.”

She saw the truth in his statement. She and Aaron were in and out of each other’s apartments so much, it was almost as if there were no wall between them. Anything left out in the open was fair game for the other.

“Okay,” she muttered, relinquishing the notebook, “but you’d better not say anything cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I might even be able to help.” Aaron flipped the notebook open and perused the list. “More pros than cons, eh? That makes sense, I guess, if you’re going to marry the guy.”

She sighed. “Just read the list and be done with it, Aaron.”

He ran his eyes down the column, picking out words and phrases. “‘Considerate…respects me…stable.’ Stable? Do you mean emotionally or financially?”

“The first one, of course. That’s what matters most”

“Is he?” asked Aaron, raising an eyebrow.

Shelly crossed her arms. Eric West was a principal lawyer in the legal aid office where she worked. She’d been dating him for several months, and he’d always been calm and dependable—as Aaron well knew.

She gave him a haughty glare. “More stable than you.”

He grinned back at her. “Touchy, touchy. Okay, let’s see what else is on this list. ‘Intelligent…likes helping people…similar interests….’ Not bad, Carpenter.”

His words hung in the air for a moment. It was faint praise, but then, she hadn’t expected Aaron to be impressed by her considered and substantive list. Tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear, she began, “Thank you—”

“But I take it you haven’t slept with him yet.”

Shelly spluttered. “As if that’s any of your business!”

“Well…” Aaron shrugged. “You have to admit, it’s suspicious to make a list like this and not even mention you’re attracted to him. Is he that unappealing?”

“I wasn’t finished yet.” She sniffed. “Anyway, if all I wanted was physical gratification, I’ve got a whole city of partners to choose from. I need more than that.”

“Well said.” He smiled so warmly she forgave him for his obnoxiousness. “Now let’s see what’s wrong with him. ‘Travels a lot.’ That’s true enough, and a definite drawback.” His eyes met hers. “He’s out of town tonight, isn’t he? It’s the only logical explanation for why he proposed over lunch.”

Shelly nodded.

Aaron looked down at the pad again. “Is that it? Only one thing wrong with him?”

Shelly lifted her chin. “So?”

“So, if you’re going to make a list like this, it’s got to be balanced.” He reached into his breast pocket for a pen. “I can think of a few things right off the top of my head. His parents, for one.” He wrote this down.

“They’re perfectly nice people,” Shelly countered.

“You’ve only met them once,” Aaron returned. “I, on the other hand, have met them twice.”

Eric’s parents, she remembered, were patrons of the non-profit organization Aaron ran, and they’d attended a couple of fundraising events.

Aaron scrawled another word on the pad.

“What’s that?” Shelly asked, craning her head so she could see what he’d written. “Boring? You think he’s boring?”

“Shhh,” he placated. “It’s just something you should consider. Remember, I’m only trying to help.” He reviewed the list again, tapping his pen against the polished wood of her coffee table. “Come to think of it, maybe this bit about him traveling so much belongs on the other side….”

Shelly snatched the pad from him and tore off the top sheet. Crumpling it in her fist, she stared at him through narrowed green eyes. “You don’t think I should marry him, do you?”

He considered her question. “Actually, I wouldn’t go that far. I just believe you shouldn’t marry anyone but your soul mate. If Eric is that person, then by all means rush him to the altar.”

“Soul mate?” Shelly echoed dubiously.

“Sure.” His eyes gleamed. “The person with whom you feel an intense connection and an unmistakable feeling of rightness. Not to mention weak knees and a shiver in your stomach.”

She swallowed. He was making fun of her. “Modern women don’t go weak in the knees,” she said tightly. She tossed the crumpled paper onto the table.

Aaron wagged his finger at her. “You think it’ll never happen to you…. Ah, the confidence of youth.”

“You’re not that old yourself.”

He laced his fingers together. “No. But you have to admit, I’ve got lots of experience.” He said it with a wicked grin.

Shelly made a face. “Yet you haven’t met your soul mate.”

“Not this week,” Aaron agreed. “There was this greatlooking redhead the other day, though….”

She stared at the ceiling and shook her head. The man was hopeless. He possessed equal measures of charm and fickleness, a combination that had broken more than one unwary female heart. But not hers, fortunately. On a regular basis Shelly thanked her stars that she and Aaron were next-door neighbors. Because of that fact she’d been able to observe him in action first—before she could become an unwitting victim.

Aaron was still talking. “Speaking of which, do you happen to have any eggs?”

She blinked. “You’ve lost me, Carpenter.”

He stood and walked into the kitchen. “Eggs. I need some.” Rummaging sounds emanated from around the corner. “Here they are. Mind if I…?”

“Wait a minute,” called Shelly. “What about Eric? What about my major decision?”

She could almost see him shrugging as he said, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to make the right choice…. Can I have these or not?”

Resigning herself to the shift in conversation, Shelly got to her feet and joined Aaron in the kitchen. “All of them?”

“You only have six.” He displayed the open carton.

“Breakfast for an overnight guest?” she asked sweetly. “Well, you’ll have to make do with five. I need at least one for my own breakfast.”

“Dinner for a nonovernight guest, actually.” Aaron reached into one of her cupboards for a glass mixing bowl. He put five eggs into the bowl and returned the last solitary egg to the refrigerator, tossing the empty carton into the trash.

Shelly plucked it out of the garbage and carried it across the room to her recycling bin.

Aaron didn’t notice. He pulled out the vegetable drawer and pawed around. “Can I have this purple cabbage, too, Shel?”

“Take whatever you want. Goodness knows I won’t eat it.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Thanks. Just eggs and the cabbage, then. It’s time for you to go shopping, you know.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly. “I can’t imagine where it all goes.”

Aaron feigned embarrassment. “Tell you what,” he said. “I only need half of this cabbage, so I’ll leave the rest with you.” With easy movements he took a chopping knife from her drawer, cut the cabbage in two and covered both parts in plastic wrap.

Shelly just stood and watched. “What in the world are you going to make with eggs and cabbage?”

“Quiche,” he said, smiling.

“Cabbage quiche? Ick. Your poor girlfriend. Why not just tell her you’ve lost interest in her?”

He stared at Shelly in disbelief. “But that’s not very imaginative, is it? And this—” he held up the purple vegetable “—is so much more interesting.”

“And infinitely more cruel. Have I met the lucky lady?”

He stopped and gave her an earnest look. “Actually, there isn’t one.”

“Right, Aaron.”

“Well, not tonight at least. I’m only practicing. Come on, let’s take these to my place.” Aaron grabbed his half of the cabbage and strode out of the kitchen.

Grumbling, Shelly picked up the bowl of eggs and followed him, almost bumping into his broad back when he stopped abruptly.

Aaron turned to face the wall. He studied a framed black-and-white poster of two Parisian lovers kissing. It was the one romantic touch Shelly had allowed herself in her apartment, but under Aaron’s sudden scrutiny, it seemed much too sentimental.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “What is it? That poster’s been there for months, Aaron.”

He tilted his head to stare at her. “You really haven’t noticed, have you?”

“Noticed what?” she said defensively.

“Nothing.” He headed for the front door again.

“What’s wrong with my poster? You think it’s stupid?”

“No, no, of course not. It’s very tasteful. Now, if the woman’s neckline were any lower it might be a bit risqué, but…”

Shelly groaned and followed him out onto their shared stoop, waiting while he fished out his key ring.

He paused after unlocking his door. “Are you coming in?”

“Not if you’re having company.”

Aaron took the bowl from her hands and set it on the sideboard just inside his door. He faced her. “Shelly, there’s no one in there.”

She shivered in the damp air. “But there will be, and then there’ll be a scene. It’s the same story every time I run into one of your girlfriends. They think I’m competition and they get catty.”

Aaron sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re still worked up about Marcia. That was ages ago.”

She kept her mouth shut.

“Look, Shel, my dinner date’s not due until tomorrow evening. If she shows up tonight, she deserves whatever she finds.”

Shelly stepped back toward her apartment.

“Wait,” said Aaron, reaching for her hand. “Let’s compromise. If you come in, I’ll save the cabbage for another night. Just keep me company while I cook.” He flashed a persuasive grin.

She wavered.

“Come on. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

“You make it sound as if somebody died. But, yes, I will come in for a few minutes….”

Shelly liked Aaron’s apartment. It was larger than her own, with original paintings hanging in the hallway and over the mantelpiece. His furniture was modern but very comfortable, upholstered in dark tones of maroon and navy blue.

Most importantly, though, the place felt like a home. It had an air of comfort and continuity that was completely different from the houses she’d lived in as a child, and it smelled like a home should, of warm cinnamon spice and even the subtle masculine scent of Aaron himself.

Shelly followed him into the kitchen and pulled up a stool by the cooking island, resting her elbows on the tile countertop.

Aaron poured a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and set it before her. “I have a letter of yours, by the way.” He pointed to a small drop-front desk in the corner.

She slid off the stool and crossed the room. The letter, addressed to “S. Carpenter,” was an offer for a credit card at a low annual percentage rate. Shelly ripped it in two without reading it.

It was crazy, she thought, that they were still getting pieces of each other’s mail. The postal service simply couldn’t figure out that they weren’t related and lived in separate apartments. It was pure coincidence that they shared the same last name.

The confusion didn’t really bother her, though. After all, she never would have gotten to know Aaron so well without it. Almost a year ago, right after she’d moved to San Francisco, Aaron had knocked on her door. He’d introduced himself, handed her two misdelivered letters and asked if he could kiss her.

Despite the instant response that had run through her— Aaron, with his tousled black hair and dazzling blue eyes, was quite a heartthrob—she’d kept her common sense and refused him. He’d never made another pass. He hadn’t needed to, Shelly realized during the following weeks. There’d been plenty of other women ready to fall at his feet, and he rarely lacked female companionship.

He’d still found time, however, to stop by her place almost nightly, in order to deliver more letters that had gone astray. Homesick and lonely after her move to the West Coast, she’d begun to look forward to their brief encounters.

And then one night he’d invited her over for dinner. His date had canceled at the last minute, he’d said, and if she wasn’t doing anything else, he would love to have her over to chat and share the food he’d prepared.

She’d been somewhat unsettled by the romantic meal that had greeted her when she’d entered his dining room, but Aaron had quickly allayed her concerns.

“I’d already set out the candles when Laura called to cancel,” he’d explained. “We might as well enjoy them.” It had been the first of many pleasant, platonic evenings they’d spent together.

Shelly returned to her stool and took another sip of orange juice. While she’d been thinking of the past, Aaron had chopped a tomato and beaten the eggs he’d borrowed from her refrigerator. He put a pan on the stove and poured some olive oil into it, stirring it briefly before consulting his cookbook.

“Tell me what you’re making,” Shelly said, “since it isn’t cabbage quiche.”

“Tomato basil frittata,” he replied.

“Another experiment?”

He nodded.

“And you thought you’d try it out on me.”

“What? You’re staying for dinner?”

“Of course I am. That’s been your plan all along, hasn’t it?”

“Now that you mention it,” he said, “yes.”

Shelly smiled to herself as she set the kitchen table with her favorite place mats and napkins.

She poured him a drink and lit the taper candles she’d picked up last week, then sat at the table enjoying the sweet fragrance of beeswax wafting from the candles and the muted clatter of Aaron selecting dinnerware and serving out their meal.

Aaron’s frittata was similar to the omelets he occasionally cooked for her on weekend mornings. It was smooth and creamy with a delightful blend of flavors.

“That was pretty good,” she said when they’d finished.

“Thank you. I want to serve it as a side dish. Do you think it’ll go with steak? And do you think Amanda will like it?”

She looked up. “Amanda? Is this a new one?”

Aaron carried their plates to the sink and set them in the basin. “You know, Shelly, you almost sound jealous.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “What you’re hearing is my disapproval of your life-style.”

He grinned at her, unrepentant.

She rolled her eyes. “About the steak,” she continued. “I think that’s an unconventional combination. But you just might be able to carry it off. I mean, people eat steak and eggs, right? Steak and frittata isn’t much different.”

He returned to the table. “You’re not saying that just to get me into trouble, are you? I could make salmon, instead.”

Shelly grimaced. “No. Stick with the steak. That way you can get Alison tipsy on a nice red wine.”

“Amanda.”

She stared at him. “Are you sure?”

Aaron paused. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Shelly watched while he dug into his back pocket and pulled a business card from his wallet, checking it quickly before giving it to her. It was his own card, but on the reverse was the name Amanda James and a telephone number, all written in a flowing, feminine hand.

“Lucky you,” she said pithily as she handed back the card.

Aaron tossed it onto the island, where it would no doubt stay until his next girlfriend found it and went into a jealous rage. “I’ll make coffee,” he said.

“No, it’s my turn.” She stood and crossed to the machine. “You made it last time, didn’t you? Fair’s fair.”

They both took their coffee black. Aaron sipped his appreciatively and leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs. “So, Carpenter, aside from that marriage proposal, how was your day at the office?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Oh, that’s right. The April open house is tomorrow.”

“Exactly.” Every month, legal aid invited low-income and homeless people to come in for help with legal problems. If a lawyer could take the case, and if the person qualified, then the services were free. It was an effective way to reach those in need of assistance, but the days leading up to it were always hectic.

“Is Eric going to be there?”

Shelly shook her head. “No. He had to fly to Sacramento this afternoon—to lobby for that grant again. He won’t be back till next week.”

“So you have plenty of time to make up your mind.”

She nodded. She would have at least five days to think about her decision, and she knew Eric wouldn’t ask for her answer the moment he returned. He’d told her to take as much time as needed, and she would. Shelly was determined to make the right choice because, when she married, she wanted to be married forever. She didn’t want to fall into the same trap her mother had, rushing into matrimony with heedless passion only to realize, too late, that she’d made a mistake.

Of course, Eric wasn’t anything like Shelly’s father. But she was going to be careful nonetheless.

“You know,” Aaron said, startling her from her reverie, “I was thinking of asking you the same question.”

Shelly frowned, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation. “What are you talking about?”

He sipped his coffee. “I was thinking of asking you to marry me.”

Caught by surprise, Shelly felt her heart speed up. Finally she managed a laugh.

Aaron brought all four legs of his chair back to the floor with a thud. “I guess that means no,” he said, his tone ironic.

“You haven’t asked me the question.” Only when the words were out of her mouth did she realize she’d given him the perfect opening.

Aaron pushed aside his coffee cup and leaned across the table. Before Shelly could pull away, he grasped her hands in his and gazed soulfully into her eyes. His touch was warm and firm, and she could feel the slight roughness of his fingers against her palms.

“Shelly,” he said, “will you marry me?”

She gulped. Even though she knew he was kidding— and knew she’d never want to marry him—hearing Aaron say those words made her feel unaccountably shaky. She withdrew her hands from his grasp and said, as casually as she could, “Very funny, Aaron. You’d run screaming if I answered yes.”

“Probably.” He shrugged.

Shelly frowned. Had there been the briefest flicker of something in his eyes just then? She examined his features. No, she told herself, of course not. He leaned negligently back in his chair, his expression bland. He was the same unconcerned Aaron as usual.

His next words, spoken in a musing tone, confirmed her assessment

“It’s too bad, though, since there are tons of advantages. We could get a house together and never have to ring a doorbell to talk. I could cook for you every night. We know each other well, so there wouldn’t be any surprises—not to mention you’d be spared the heartache of deciding whether or not to take my name.”

“There’s no heartache involved,” she said, recovering her composure. She was used to this sort of nonsense from him. “No matter what happens, I’m keeping my name.”

Aaron drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes took on a mischievous sparkle, and he said in a stuffy voice, “For your professional life, certainly, dear. But I really think you should use mine in our social life. It’s so much simpler that way.”

Shelly shook her head, smiling.

“Of course, if you really wanted to be fair, we could hyphenate. Both of us. We’d be Shelly and Aaron Carpenter-Carpenter. How’s that?”

“Please, Aaron. Give me a break already. You’re only doing this to tease me.”

He didn’t deny it, she noticed.

She sighed. “Not to mention the fact that it makes you seem desperate when you ask a woman to marry you right after another man has proposed. Desperation is not attractive.”

Aaron shrugged again. “So I’m desperate.”

“Right.” The idea of Aaron being desperate was ludicrous. Even if he could bring himself to commit—which was highly improbable—it wouldn’t be to a plain old security seeker like her. “What happened to all that soul mate business?” she challenged. “Somehow I can’t believe your knees went weak and your stomach tied itself in knots the first time you saw me.”

Aaron didn’t say anything.

“Anyway,” she couldn’t help adding, “if we were soul mates, you’d have proposed to me a long time ago. Soul mates don’t wait until the last minute.”

“How was I supposed to know it was the last minute?” Aaron got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. “If you’re not going to marry me, will you at least do the dishes?”

Obviously, she thought, he’d grown tired of the conversation. Which only proved how lightly he’d taken it. He always took everything lightly.

“Of course,” she said. “You cook, I clean. Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you invite me over.” She pushed back her chair and went to the sink.

Shelly told herself to forget his talk of marriage. After all, it had only been another of his jokes. What would Aaron want with her when he could have any woman he chose?

After the past year, it was clear he had no interest in her. Sure, he’d asked to kiss her the first day they’d met, but since then, even in the most romantic situations— candlelight dinners, walks along the beach, intimate evenings watching movies together on her sofa—he’d never done anything more than smile at her in that charming way of his. In all the hours they’d spent together, he’d always been a perfect gentleman. It would be absurd to assume she’d suddenly become irresistible to him.

Shelly knew that. Yet, on the other hand, she couldn’t help wondering if Aaron was truly happy with his constant stream of girlfriends. Maybe, she thought, he did long for someone special in his life, even though it wasn’t her. Maybe he longed for someone who’d be more than a casual date, a person who could give him the deeper satisfaction of trust and commitment….

But if that was the case, would he ever admit it?

Probably not. Unchallenged, he’d probably continue with his womanizing ways forever, unable to face the fact that something was missing.

She couldn’t let him do it—couldn’t let him ruin his life like that.

Shelly finished loading the dishwasher, then cleaned and dried Aaron’s cookware. Finally she faced him with a damp towel in her hands.

She had to save him.