To Laney, With Love Read online

  Her reply sounded halfway convincing to her own ears.

  MORNING so SOON? Laney’s eyes opened wide at the blare of the clock radio on her bedside table. She rolled over to extinguish the sound and lay there, hoping Josh would be so absorbed with the idea of watching cartoons with Ben on a school morning that he wouldn’t notice Spidey wasn’t in his bed when he woke up.

  They hadn’t found it in the living room last night. Ben had taken over the hunt while she’d reported her stolen credit cards, but he’d come up empty. Laney was feeling desperate enough that she planned to head off to the nearest toy store to buy a replacement while Josh was at school to prevent him from thinking his favorite toy had been stolen. She’d rough it up a bit so it wouldn’t look brand-new.

  Her gaze shifted to her dresser top, seeking out her wedding photo. She was one day closer to finding out whether her husband was alive. If he was alive, would they ever be as happy as they’d been on their wedding day?

  Laney pushed herself up onto her elbows and frowned. Something wasn’t right. Where was her wedding portrait? She’d cleaned up her room last night, distractedly setting things up on her dresser without consciously rearranging them, in hopes of finding Spidey and... A current of alarm jangled along her nerve endings as she realized she hadn’t seen the ornate pewter frame that usually sat on the left end of her dresser. Laney wasn’t a criminology expert, but what kind of burglars had a taste for toys and picture frames?

  THE CALL CAME as he was watching a cruise ship slip beneath the graceful span of the Lions Gate Bridge from his West Vancouver penthouse apartment. Ivan and Rico had been gone for two days. Plenty of time to complete the job. They were professionals.

  “What have you got, Rico?”

  A low guffaw came over the phone line. “It’s him all right. We got a photo of the nuptials and the wedding ring he gave his bride.”

  “Excellent.”

  “We found a little bargaining chip, too. We’ll have him right where we want him. We’ll teach him not to screw with you.”

  “Were you careful?”

  “Yes. She won’t suspect a thing.”

  The man hung up with a smile. The hunting expedition had been well worth the expense.

  Chapter Three

  Laney glanced anxiously at Ben as the plane taxied down the runway with gathering speed, taking her toward her past and her future. Her stomach had contorted into a massive knot. She couldn’t eat supper last night and she’d barely got three sips of coffee down this morning. Tomorrow, she was supposed to meet her husband—and she was petrified.

  The lie they’d told Josh and Scott—that she and Ben were attending separate conferences in Vancouver wasn’t sitting well with her either. Josh hadn’t bought it...even when she’d told him Ben would probably be returning earlier than she. Thank heavens they’d opted to leave their skis at home, deciding they could rent what they needed to meet Reese at the appointed location. Skis most certainly would have aroused the boys’ suspicions and, perhaps, have even alarmed Josh.

  .At least she wasn’t worried about leaving Josh in Georgina’s care. Josh was so excited about staying at Scott’s house he hadn’t even noticed the substitute Spidey Laney had purchased wasn’t his original toy.

  Ben’s eyes were caring beneath the dark line of his brows. A smile touched his clean-shaven face. “It’s okay. I’m going to be right there with you,” he said reassuringly.

  Laney couldn’t tell him that was the problem in a nutshell; not when he was being so generous to her. She realized now how unwise it would have been to go off alone. Yet, she felt awkward discussing Josh’s attachment to Ben. “I know, it’s just...well, you saw the boys’ faces when we left. They know something’s going on. Josh asked me last night if we were eloping.”

  Laney jerked her gaze away from the astonishment glinting in Ben’s eyes and gritted her teeth as the plane took off, her face burning with embarrassment. This is just what she’d hoped to avoid. What if Ben assumed Josh’s expectations were a reflection of her feelings for him? He’d run in the opposite direction as fast as his lean, muscular legs could carry him if he knew the tangy spice of the aftershave he was wearing this morning made her giddy.

  Laney had heard the gossip during the hockey games. Whenever things started looking serious with a woman he was dating, Ben backed away. She was certain it was the fact she was off-limits that made their friendship work.

  Ben quirked an eyebrow, his expression now carefully neutral. “What’d you tell him?”

  Laney lowered her gaze to his jean-covered thighs, grateful there was no one in the third seat in their row to overhear their exchange. “The same thing you told Scott—that this was a business trip and it was a coincidence the conferences were held at the same time. I explained Vancouver is a popular conference site because winter is milder on the west coast. And, I emphasized that we’re just friends.” Laney frowned, hoping Ben’s story was consistent with hers. “Did Scott say anything to you?”

  “He only asked why he and Josh couldn’t come with us. I told him they couldn’t miss school and that we weren’t even staying in the same hotel.”

  Which was another lie. They were staying in a suite with separate sleeping quarters. Ben had thought it was a wise precautionary measure. He’d even made the reservations at the Chateau Whistler in his name. They could ski out the door of the hotel to a lift that would take them to the Rendezvous, a lodge located halfway up Blackcomb Mountain. The resort’s tourist information center had informed them that Christine’s was a fine-dining restaurant with breathtaking views of the Whistler valley and was located in the Rendezvous.

  She picked at a thread of her cable-knit sweater. “I’m still nervous about this meeting. I don’t understand why Reese would pick a place on a mountain. He knows I haven’t skied since before Josh was born.”

  Ben suspected Reese had picked the location because he could ski away and disappear if he spotted trouble, but he didn’t know what good could be gained by sharing that with Laney. She was wound tight enough as it was. Of course the boys suspected something was up. Ben had never seen Laney so pale or withdrawn. He could detect hollows in her cheeks that hadn’t been there a week ago. The customary liveliness glimmering in her blue eyes was noticeably absent.

  “I don’t like it, either,” he remarked, exercising restraint.

  Beside him, Laney sighed, a short wistful sound. “He probably thought it would be romantic and selected it because of the name.”

  Ben felt a force of anger throb from his shoulders to the soles of his winter boots and repressed a strong desire to kick the seat in front of him. He’d put his heart and soul into the valentine puzzle he’d made for her. He hadn’t written a poem since high-school English, but the words had come easily because it was for her. Now his efforts seemed hokey and amateurish compared to the intrigue and drama of Reese’s invitation.

  Ben scowled, his ego still smarting from the way she’d downplayed the possibility that they could ever be more than friends a few minutes ago. Face it, Forbes, you’re playing out of your league, he told himself.

  No longer in the mood for conversation, he picked up the newspaper and tried to lose himself in a story in the business section about a ring of thieves robbing companies of their computer systems and selling the information to foreign countries.

  All he knew is that Reese Dobson had better have a damn good explanation for what he’d put his family through.

  LANEY SILENTLY WATCHED the skiers in multicolored ski suits gliding and cutting turns along the groomed runs that wove like wide white ribbons through the majestic fir forests of Blackcomb and Whistler mountains. Was one of them Reese getting in a last run before their lunch date?

  Her stomach lurched, her thighs trembling with nervousness as the quad chairlift ascended the mountain at a breakneck speed. Beside her, three teenaged boys enthusiastically swapped stories about the powder, steeps and gates. It sounded like a foreign language to Laney.

  Ben
was in the chair behind her. They’d decided to split up when they got off the Wizard Express lift and joined the lineup for the Solar Coaster Express to take them farther up the mountain, so it would look as though she’d arrived alone. It couldn’t have been a more gorgeous day.

  Her goggles cut the glare of the sun beaming off the glistening snow. The ridges of the glacier-topped Coast Mountains were awesome against the backdrop of a pristine blue sky. Somehow it had seemed fitting that this was Reese’s final resting place. He’d loved the mountains and the majesty and the thrill of backcountry alpine skiing. The steeper the better. He’d always been a risk taker. Was that why he’d wanted to meet her here—to show her he’d conquered the mountain?

  The quad chair arrived at the top. Laney disembarked, gliding to a rusty stop on her skis. Adjusting her goggles, she filled her lungs with a fortifying breath of moist air and shoved off toward the Rendezvous, aware that Ben would remain close within her range. She owed him a big thank-you when this was over.

  Nerves made her clumsy as she locked up her rental skis and walked toward the entrance to the large, flat-roofed, gray lodge. She removed her goggles and toque as she climbed the metal grate steps and quickly smoothed her hair, swiveling her head left and right in an effort to spot Reese. The place was packed. A large crowd gathered around the information desk. The din of voices from the Mountain Grill cafeteria was almost deafening. She found Christine’s at the end of the building. It was quieter, more refined, with linen-draped tables and silverware. The spectacular 180° view seemed to inspire hushed tones.

  There was no sign of Reese at the tables within her line of vision. Laney struggled to find her voice as she asked if there was a reservation for Dobson.

  “Right this way,” the hostess told her with a smile.

  Laney’s heart pounded like an erratic rhythm on a bongo drum as she followed the hostess. Her eyes darted from table to table. Lord, where was he? The hostess stopped beside a table with a reserved sign. Red rose petals were sprinkled over the snowy-white cloth, just as their sheets had been sprinkled with rose petals on their wedding night. Laney’s eyes welled with tears. Did this mean Reese wanted their marriage back?

  Did she?

  In the center of the table was an enormous bouquet of red roses wrapped in green paper and tied with a red velvet ribbon. An envelope addressed, “To Laney, With Love” was propped against the fragrant blooms. She didn’t recognize the handwriting.

  “This is your table,” the hostess said. “Your party isn’t here yet, but he should be soon. You’re a few minutes early. Have a Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  Laney murmured a numb thank-you and unzipped her jacket. She draped it on the back of the chair that faced the entrance and sat down so she could see Reese the moment he arrived. Somehow she felt she’d know in that first look whether things could ever be the same between them again.

  The couple at the table across from her were holding hands and seemed so much in love it physically hurt to look at them. Laney worried her lower lip. Glancing back toward the entrance, she saw Ben had just come in. She gave a faint shake of her head to signal that Reese hadn’t shown up yet, and turned her attention to the flowers. Their intoxicating perfume told her this wasn’t a dream.

  She couldn’t put off reading the card any longer. Steeling herself, she removed it from the envelope with clumsy fingers.

  Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.

  Love,

  R.

  The writing was not Reese’s. Had he phoned the delivery in to a florist?

  Unconsciously tapping the card on the tablecloth, Laney sat back to wait and debated whether she wanted her marriage back. Of course she did. Didn’t she?

  Ten minutes later she was still alone at the table, toying with her silverware. She ordered a glass of white wine to steady her nerves.

  As the minutes ticked steadily by and diners filed in and out of the restaurant, the realization that she’d been stood up solidified into stone in her stomach. At 1:45, she told the waiter she was going to the ladies’ room and would be right back. The tears started to fall before she had the door to the stall closed, granting her some privacy. Laney muffled a sob with her hands. Why hadn’t he shown up?

  “Um, excuse me,” a woman said, tapping on the door to Laney’s stall.

  Laney grappled with the roll of toilet paper so she could wipe her face. “I’m not finished yet.” Just her luck. There were probably fifty other stalls in the utilitarian bathroom and someone had to pick hers.

  “Is your name Laney?”

  “Yes?” She reluctantly opened the door. Had Ben sent someone in after her to make sure she was okay?

  A pretty woman in her early twenties with a mass of dark ringlets and a friendly smile beamed at her. “A man paid me one hundred dollars to give you a message.”

  Laney knew only one man who’d hand over a hundred-dollar gratuity without blinking: Reese. Anticipation snared her breath in her lungs. “Wh-what’s the message?”

  “I think you have an admirer.” The young woman glanced down at her palm. Laney noticed an address written on it in ballpoint ink. “The man said if you’re interested, to meet him tonight around seven...but your boyfriend’s not invited. This is the address: 24 Horstman Lane. Okay?”

  Laney blinked in weak relief, feeling an enormous lightening of the leaden heaviness in her stomach. “Thank you so much,” she said, and repeated the address back to the woman. Reese must have been watching and noticed Ben. She flushed. Did he think she was involved with Ben? Or was he that paranoid about anyone but her seeing him?

  Did it matter? Laney’s chin shot up a notch. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She was not the one who needed to apologize or make explanations. She was not the one who’d abandoned their marriage and their child.

  But she’d come this far, and she wasn’t going home until she’d seen Reese and knew the truth of what had happened. Someone had to stick up for Josh’s rights. But how was she going to get to 24 Horstman Lane tonight without Ben’s knowing about it?

  BEN ALMOST CHOKED on his grilled vegetables when Laney sauntered over to his table after retrieving her ski jacket, her chin held high. He’d silently applauded the fact that she’d left the roses on the table.

  “May I join you?” she asked softly, her eyes suspiciously bright.

  Compassion for her and outrage with her jerk of a husband warred in Ben’s chest, yet he managed to keep both emotions in check so she could salvage her pride. He rose and pulled out a chair for her, careful not to give in to the urge to caress her shoulders. “I’d be honored if you joined me.”

  “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have lunch with on Valentine’s Day,” she said tartly, sitting down. “You’re the biggest sweetheart in the room.”

  Ben ground his teeth. Right now he felt like the biggest chump in the room. The woman of his dreams was saying all the words he wanted to hear, but it was all wrong. Her heart wasn’t in it.

  Laney ducked her head, her lashes concealing her eyes. “I’m sorry I led you on a wild-goose chase.”

  “I’m not. I’ve been thinking maybe my life is too dull.” He gestured toward the view. “I mean, look at the world out there—it’s beautiful. Scott and I have always spent my few weeks of holidays at the same campgrounds in Maine and Ontario every year. I should be taking Scott on a cross-country tour of Canada. We could camp along the way, make it a big adventure. Whistler has shown me I’m in a rut, so don’t apologize.”

  Laney laughed, the old music almost back in her voice. A tinge of rosy apricot—that matched her turtleneck—crept into her cheeks. Ben had to mentally order himself not to act like an idiot by telling her that he would never stand her up. Never let her doubt that he loved her.

  “Oh, Ben, you’re not in a rut. I like you just the way you are.”

  She did? Ben’s stared at her for a minute and saw the pain and determination in her eyes. Laney was one hell of a woman and maybe there was hope for the two
of them yet. But first, he had to convince her to show the notes to the police and let them figure out whether or not Reese was still alive. Getting involved with a married woman wasn’t okay in Ben’s personal code of ethics.

  She helped herself to a julienned carrot from his plate. “I’m starving. Let me have something to eat and we can spend the afternoon on the slopes. They must have some beginner trails for a rookie like me.”

  “You don’t want to see if we can track down Reese?” Ben asked incredulous.

  “No,” she said with a resolute edge to her tone. “I’ve gone to all the effort and expense I care to. As far as I’m concerned—and until the law tells me otherwise—my husband is dead.”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple—” Ben broke off as the waiter appeared at their table holding the bouquet of roses. Laney told him to put them in a vase and let the other guests enjoy them. After she’d ordered an Italian flatbread sandwich and salad, Ben excused himself for a few minutes.

  He caught up with the waiter near the entrance to the kitchen and appropriated the card that had come with the flowers. The florist’s name was stamped on the corner of the envelope. “My friend is a little worried about her date,” he explained. “Would it be possible to find out when the reservation was made and if there’s a contact phone number?”

  The waiter shrugged. “Sure, you can ask at the front. I hope her date didn’t get lost on the mountain. He’s probably stuck in lift lines.”

  Ben passed the waiter a twenty and hurried to the entrance to speak to the hostess. She told him the reservation had been made a week ago, but there was no contact number.

  Ben refused to be discouraged. He could at least try the florist’s shop. He zipped the envelope into the pocket of his ski pants and headed back to the table before Laney began to wonder what was keeping him. Laney might be ready to give up on finding Reese, but he wasn’t.