Page 46 of Things We Do for Love and Science
“Ha, ha.” His face was pinched. “I’m serious.”
She swung an arm around his shoulder. “Understood. I promise you regular updates.”
~ * ~
Delia paced at theentrance of the park.Where is he?Had Gabriel forgotten their run today? She tied her shoelace and, straightening, jogged on the spot for a few moments to keep herself warm. Late summer had cooled into a bracing-but-glorious early autumn. The leaves on the trees around the park had begun to turn, and the light of the afternoon sun shone low and golden.
Gabriel and she had fallen into a routine of weekly runs—an arrangement that had eased their awkwardness when she’d collected the first sperm sample. The second time had been much easier.
She checked her watch; hehadforgotten her. He was never this late. Usually, he was waiting for her, with Renoir at his heel. Not so today. She tried the gatehouse, but all within was dark and silent. He must be in his office lost in work.
She re-tied her pony tail, then ran up the driveway toward the mansion to pull the seventh Earl of Renwood away from his desk and into the fresh air. At the big house, there was no answer to the bell. She rang again.
“Hi there, Delia.” Mary greeted her with a distracted air. “Come in, come in. I have to run. I’ve brown bread in the oven, but Gabriel’s in his office.”
“Oh, thanks, Mary.” Delia entered the vestibule and made her way up the huge central staircase while the older woman hurried to the kitchen.
Delia, energized by the run to the house, pushed the heavy oak door open. “Gabriel, have you forgotten—” She halted mid-sentence. He was in a meeting with the bank manager, and she had barged in without knocking. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Brady-Greene. Gabriel. I didn’t realize...”
She was about to duck back into the corridor, but the look in Gabriel’s eyes kept her rooted to the spot. She read amusement and something else.
He rose and crossed the room at a leisurely pace, self-assured, elegant, and sexy. Dressed in a pair of dark slacks and white shirt, both equally useless at obscuring his physical charms, he was the very image of a young lord.
She stared at him, but before she could arrange her features into something resembling a neutral expression, he took her into his arms and kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, a mere press of his warm lips to hers. Much like the way he’d kissed her in front of the Brady-Greene residence.
“See you in a moment, darling.” He held her loosely. “Mr. Brady-Greene and I are almost finished.”
Heat rushed into her face. “I’ll...eh...take Renoir to the park.” She withdrew from Gabriel’s embrace and patted her leg to entice the wolfhound to follow her.
Renoir’s ears pricked at the mention of his name. He lifted his head off his paws, got to his feet, then bounded over to her, tail wagging.
She stroked his gray fur. Glancing up, she quickly said, “Goodbye, Mr. Brady-Greene, and sorry once more for having interrupted the meeting.”
The banker had risen at her entry and was still standing. “A good day to you, Lady Renwood, and no need to worry, it is always lovely to see you.”
Delia and Renoir raced each other around the park for two laps by the time Gabriel fell in step beside them. “I totally forgot our running date today, please forgive me. Brady-Greene ‘happened to pass by’ on his way to Manchester, and I had to entertain him with further tales about the future of the Renwood line.”
“No,I’msorry for interrupting your meeting. It was an accident.”
Gabriel turned to her and smiled. “A useful one, if you ask me. He’s now utterly convinced we’re married.” He dropped his gaze to the dog. “Even Renoir played his part to perfection.”
~ * ~
Sandra stood in thecenter of Delia’s living room, cup of tea in hand, contemplating the whitewashed wooden floorboards and the duck egg blue walls edged with white coving. “Your flat is so neat and tidy. How do you do it?”
Delia loved her interior design choices. Her place was bright and soft, her furnishings sparse. The walls were bare except for Gabriel’s painting of the DNA molecule. His present was the perfect piece of art to complete the space.
She drank from her cup. “There’s never any time to make a mess.”
“Funny, I always seem to manage.” Sandra sauntered toward the painting. “That picture is new. Where did you get it?”
“Ah, a friend gave it to me.” Delia took a quick breath. So far, she hadn’t mentioned her plans involving Gabriel. Fielding Tom’s concerned questions was bad enough, adding another person into the mix would be overwhelming. “Time for tea and Danish pastry, I think.” She’d hunted all over Renwood for the pastry her friend craved. Three years in the UK hadn’t dulled one bit of Sandra’s longing for her home country’s baked goods.
“Danishes.” Her eyes took on a wistfulness. “Real ones?”
“Absolutely. I know you miss them.” Delia shepherded her friend into the kitchen, took a paper-covered plate from the fridge and placed it in front of her. With a flourish, Delia uncovered four custard-filled pastries. “Ta-da.”
“Oh my God,Puddingteilchen.Where did you get them?” Sandra’s face glowed.
