Expecting a Miracle. Jackie Braun

York,” she said.

      “You’re not from there originally, though, are you?”

      She blinked. “No. I’m a West Coast transplant. Los Angeles. How could you tell?”

      Gavin studied her. He hadn’t expected that answer. Something about Lauren seemed too soft, too uncertain for city life. Her looks certainly fit, though. He allowed his gaze to take another discreet tour from her perfectly coiffed hair to the heels of her fashionable pumps. He’d seen plenty of women who looked just like Lauren parading into Manhattan’s private Colony Club or exiting their stretch limousines in front of the posh apartment buildings on Park Avenue. Still…

      “You don’t seem like a New Yorker,” he said at last.

      She surprised him by replying, “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

      “I’m not a native, either,” he admitted. “I was born and raised in a little town just outside Buffalo. Does it still show?”

      “Not really.”

      But he thought she was being polite. He supposed given the way he was dressed and where they were sitting, her opinion made perfect sense. Perhaps she would see him in a different light if he was wearing one of the suits he’d picked up on his last trip to Milan and they’d bumped into one another at the Met. For one strange moment he almost wished that were the case. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman.

      “Do you like New York?” she was asking.

      It seemed an odd question, but Gavin answered it anyway. “I loved it at first.” He sipped his water and allowed his mind to reel backward. The place had been so exciting in the beginning and he’d just made a killing with his first big real estate deal. “What about you? Do you like it?”

      She seemed to hesitate, but then she replied, “Yes. Of course. What’s not to like? It has all of those wonderful restaurants, endless entertainment opportunities and incredible cultural attractions.”

      The response struck him as something she’d read in a tourism brochure rather than a heartfelt assessment. He eyed her curiously for a moment before nodding in agreement.

      The conversation lapsed, but the interim was peaceful rather than strained. The swing creaked rhythmically, helping to fill the silence, and the wind chimes offered an abstract melody as the breeze ruffled the leaves of the big oak trees that shaded the better part of the front lawn.

      He thought he heard Lauren sigh, which he took as a good sign. The woman was wound tight and clearly in need of relaxation. Gavin knew the feeling. Not all that long ago, he’d been that way, too.

      “So, what made you decide to move here?” she asked after a while.

      “I was looking for a slower pace.” Which was true enough. He’d been working sixty, sometimes even seventy hours a week. He’d been on fire and then. “I burned out, big-time.”

      He couldn’t believe he’d just shared that with someone—and a virtual stranger no less. Hell, he’d glossed over the truth with most of his family.

      “This is definitely slower,” she said. “It’s a good place to think.”

      Gavin had done plenty of that. “Exactly.”

      “There’s no traffic at all, no blaring horns, no choking exhaust. No…urgency.” Her tone sounded wistful and sincere, as if something about her current situation made her appreciate the bucolic setting and the sluggishness that went with it almost as much as he did.

      It prompted him to ask, “So, are you looking for a place in the country?”

      “Me? No. I…” She shook her head, but then asked, “Why? Do you know of a place nearby?”

      “This one will be on the market when I finally finish with it. But at the rate I’m going now, it probably won’t be ready for a good year or so.”

      Her brows shot up in surprise. “You’re going to sell it?”

      “Sure. That’s what I do for a living, more or less.” The more being that usually the real estate he acquired was much larger and worth millions of dollars. The less being that he delegated the physical restoration and remodeling work to others.

      “So, this is just a job?” She sounded disappointed.

      Gavin shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”

      Lauren flaked peeling paint off the armrest of the swing. She sounded wistful again when she said, “It seems more like a labor of love.”

      Labor of love? He’d considered the physical work to be therapeutic, wearing out his body so that his mind would shut down and take unpleasant memories with it. But now, as Gavin thought about the crown moldings, the mantel and the satisfaction he’d gleaned from crafting them, he decided that maybe Lauren was right. Still, he would be selling the house when he finished. He’d never planned to make this his permanent address. At some point he needed to return to New York and to Phoenix Brothers Development, the company he owned with his brother, Garrett. He couldn’t hide in Connecticut forever, avoiding well-meaning friends and family, and foisting his responsibilities at Phoenix on others.

      “So, you’re not in the market for some real estate?” he asked.

      Lauren frowned and her gaze slid away. “Actually, I am.” She motioned toward the house. “But my needs are a little smaller than this house and a little more, well, immediate.”

      Smaller. The description was hardly what he’d expected to hear. More immediate. An idea nudged him. An outrageous idea. Gavin ignored it.

      “Are you…relocating?” He nearly said running. Why did that word seem a better fit?

      “At least temporarily. Yes.” Her head jerked in an emphatic nod as if she’d just reached a decision. “Do you know anything that might be available around here?”

      “In Gabriel’s Crossing, you mean?”

      “Gabriel’s Crossing.” Her lips curved as she repeated the town’s name, and Gavin got the feeling that before he’d said it Lauren hadn’t actually known that’s where she was.

      That outrageous idea nudged him with a little more force. “Maybe.”

      “Is it nearby?” she asked.

      “Very. There’s a cottage about fifty yards behind the house. It’s adjacent to the orchard, with great views out all of its windows. I lived in it myself before the rewiring of this place was complete.”

      “And it’s for rent?”

      It hadn’t been. In fact, before this moment, Gavin had never entertained the idea of taking on a tenant. He certainly didn’t need the income or, for that matter, the hassle. But he nodded. Then he felt compelled to point out, “It’s not very big.”

      “It doesn’t need to be big.”

      He glanced at Lauren’s pricey clothes and Park Avenue appearance. The entire cottage could fit inside the master suite of his apartment back in New York. He’d bet the same could be said for hers. And so he added, “There’s not much closet space.”

      He was sure that bit of news would scuttle the deal. He almost hoped it would. He was being impulsive again. It was a trait that had all but doomed him in the past. But the lack of closets didn’t appear to have any impact on Lauren’s enthusiasm. Her expression remained a beguiling mix of hope and anticipation.

      “Do you think I could see it?”

      “You’re interested?” Heaven help him, but Gavin knew he was, and it had nothing to do with a rental agreement. The woman was beautiful, enigmatic. He wouldn’t mind unveiling some of her secrets.

      For the first time since her arrival, his gaze detoured to her left hand. A set of rings encircled her third finger, and a whopper of a diamond was visible. Married. He nearly snorted