Читать книгу One Bride: Baby Included - Doreen Roberts - Страница 12

George arrived promptly at seven that evening, as Amy had known he would. Guessing that he was a stickler for punctuality, she’d made an effort to be ready for him. After a great deal of thought she’d settled on a short, sleeveless sheath in pale apple-green and covered it with a navy linen jacket. His expression, when she opened the door to him, was hard to judge.

“Nice,” he commented, as he stepped through the doorway. Since his gaze was focused on the couch at bright orange pillows that she’d bought that afternoon, she couldn’t be sure if he was complimenting those or her.

She decided not to respond, just in case. He looked pretty good himself. Dark-gray tailored slacks, a crisp blue dress shirt, no tie and a black jacket—very cosmopolitan.

She was admiring the cut of the jacket across his broad shoulders when he turned to look at her. Quickly adjusting her expression she grabbed up her purse. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He grunted something in reply and held the door open for her to pass through. All the way down in the elevator she could sense the tension in him. Obviously he regretted his impulsive invitation. The thought bothered her more than she wanted to admit. She was looking forward to her first outing in her new hometown, and the least he could do was show a little enthusiasm.

She waited until they were in the car and heading toward the city before saying, “This is so nice of you, Georgie. You were right, I was beginning to feel just a tiny bit lonely.”

There was an odd pause before he said somewhat acidly, “I imagine it will take you a while to feel at home…Amelia.”

She winced. “Sorry. J.R. I keep forgetting.”

“Yes,” George said deliberately. “You do.”

“I promise I’ll try harder to remember.”

“Thank you.”

This, Amy thought wryly, was not a very good beginning. Admittedly, when her mother had mentioned that George had offered to show her around town, she’d had serious misgivings. After all, the Georgie she remembered was all thumbs and couldn’t even tie his shoelaces properly. He’d just about withered away from embarrassment any time a girl so much as looked at him. Amy had foreseen all kinds of disasters with dear Georgie Porgie as an escort.

But this George was a whole different animal. His take-charge attitude could be a little patronizing and he needed to lighten up, but he’d definitely improved in the looks department and she rather liked his experienced manner. The tight control he kept over his emotions was a bit intimidating, though, and she wasn’t quite sure how to take him, which certainly made things interesting.

She couldn’t wait to find out what had happened to him since he’d left Willow Falls, and if traces of that loveable, sensitive kid might still lurk beneath the sometimes formidable mask of sophistication.

The restaurant was everything she’d imagined and more. This wasn’t the first time she’d visited a big city, but it was the first time she’d been able to appreciate the finer things in life. This place, with its glittering chandeliers, exotic paintings and secluded candlelit tables, was right out of a Hollywood movie.

Surveying the elegantly dressed women in the room, she was glad she’d chosen the dress and jacket to wear, instead of the black pants and silk shirt that had been her second choice. Thank heavens for Internet shopping. She would never have found anything nearly this dressy in Willow Falls. Even the tiny mall in Shepperton, the nearest town, wouldn’t have had the choices she had on the Web.

George held her chair for her and, feeling a little like a nominee at the Golden Globes, she slid onto her seat. Several women at nearby tables sent glances her way, or rather, George’s way. She decided they were envious. Smugly, she settled back to enjoy herself.

It would have been easier if George hadn’t looked so grim. “This is very nice, J.R.,” she said hoping to relax those stern features.

“Martoni’s is one of the best restaurants in town.” He picked up his menu and opened it. “Mother practically lives here.”

“When am I going to see her?” Amy reached for the gold-embossed menu. “I haven’t seen Aunt Betty since I was about twelve. That was when she came to Idaho for a visit. I think you were away at college at the time.”

“Mother called this afternoon to make sure you’d arrived safely. I suggested she give you a day or two to settle in. She’ll be stopping by soon, no doubt. Don’t be surprised if it’s at the crack of dawn. She can’t wait to give you pointers on how to survive in this big, evil city.”

Amy wrinkled her nose at him. “You sound cross with her.”

This brought his head up. “Do I? I can’t imagine why.”

Detecting the note of sarcasm in his voice, Amy couldn’t help wondering what Aunt Betty had said or done to upset her son. “Well, it was nice of her to offer her help and I appreciate it. Just as soon as I get my phone service hooked up I’ll call her to thank her.”

George made his disgruntled elephant sound. “What kind of wine do you prefer?”

“Oh, I…don’t drink. I’ll have a Shirley Temple.”

He shot a swift glance at her, and she smiled back at him.

“All right, then. What would you like to eat?”

She scanned the impressive list of items. “The glazed salmon sounds wonderful.”

“You’re sure it won’t give you ugly red blotches?”

She grinned at him over the top of the menu. “No, it’s just crab that affects me that way.” She was pleased to see a slight gleam in his dark eyes before he returned his gaze to the menu.

The waiter obviously recognized George and stood fawning over him while he gave the order. Apparently George was a good tipper, something Amy wouldn’t have given him credit for, considering his concern about people taking care of their money.

She thoroughly enjoyed the shrimp cocktail, after assuring George that it wouldn’t give her blotches, either. She was beginning to regret mentioning her allergy, and hoped he wouldn’t question everything she put in her mouth.

Halfway through the glazed salmon, which turned out to be delicious, out of the blue George said, “I thought you might like to take a whirlwind tour of the area tomorrow. It might help you get acquainted with the great Northwest.”

Surprised, she paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Really? Well, I’d love it, of course, but don’t you have things to do? I don’t want to be a burden.”

“I don’t have any plans. I usually spend the weekend working or catching up on my reading. Nothing that can’t wait.”

Of course, no girlfriends. George must lead a very dull life. No wonder Aunt Betty was worried about him working too hard. A day out in the fresh air would do him good. She beamed at him. “So where are we going?”

“I thought a trip to the beach—the Oregon coast is quite spectacular, maybe a run through the gorge and over the mountain, we might even have time to stop in for a quick tasting at the wineries on the way. Oh, wait, you don’t drink wine, do you? Well, we can skip that, then.”

She stared at him, fascinated by the dimple that flashed in his cheek now and again when he talked. “Wow, isn’t all this going to take up a lot of time?”

“Well, I thought if we got an early start we could at least get some of it done—”

“You know what I’d really like to do?”

He snapped his mouth shut and the wariness crept back in his eyes.

“I’d like to see a casino. Aunt Betty told me there was one not far from Portland.”

George pursed his lips. “There’s one on the way to the beach. I’ll point it out to you as we go past, though you can hardly miss it. It stands out like a sore thumb.”

“I don’t want just to go past it.” She laid down her fork and gave him her best smile. “I want to go inside, J.R. I’ve never been to a casino. I want to try my luck with the one-armed bandits.”

From the look on his face, anyone would think she’d announced her intention to dance naked in the street. “You want to gamble? Are you out of your mind? Do you realize what a criminal waste of hard-earned money that is?”

She sighed. “I’m not planning on feeding my life savings into the machines. I just want a little fun with them, that’s all.”

“That’s what they all say.” George lifted his glass of pinot noir to his lips and took a hearty sip. “Gambling in any form is dangerous, Amanda…I mean Amelia…Amy.”

“Which is why I want to do it. But don’t worry, I can drive myself down there when I get a car. Perhaps Aunt Betty would like to come with me.”

A look of pure alarm crossed his face. “If it means that much to you,” he said hurriedly, “then I’ll take you. We can stop in on our way to the beach.”

“Super!” Having won that point, Amy tackled the rest of her salmon. “What made you go into finance?” she asked, when they had both laid down their forks.

George looked relieved to be on familiar ground. “I always liked working with figures and math was my best subject in high school. It just seemed logical to go into something financial. I started out as a clerk in an accounting firm and worked my way up from there.”

“And now here you are, with a big consulting company.” She tilted her head on one side to study his face. “Come on, J.R. You can’t really enjoy being stuck in a stuffy office all day staring at figures, can you? I always figured you’d go into the army, like your dad.”

His gaze flicked away from her, and he picked up his wineglass. “Well, what time would you like me to pick you up tomorrow? The earlier we start out, the more we’ll get done.”

Apparently she’d touched on a forbidden subject. Now she wanted to know why, but this clearly was not the right time. She stored that particular topic away in her mind for a more suitable opportunity, and glanced at the gold watch her parents had given her for her twenty-first birthday. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I could be ready by eight. I’m not sure I’ll sleep all that well with all this excitement.”

“I imagine this move is a huge upheaval for you. Why did you leave Willow Falls?”

She wasn’t expecting the question, and stumbled over her answer. “I…wanted to further my career.”

“They don’t have computers there?”

She started playing with her untouched teaspoon. “They do, of course, but not advertising companies.”

“What about Shepperton? That’s a fairly big town.”

She met his gaze across the flickering candle between them. “But it’s not the city. There’s more choice of jobs in Portland.”

“And more people after them.”

“You sound as if you disapprove of my being here.”

“It’s not my place to disapprove. It’s just that you don’t seem like the type to leave your home and family and move to a strange town where you don’t know anyone.”

“I know you and Aunt Betty,” Amy said gently. “And I promise not to be a nuisance.”

George actually looked ashamed of himself. “Of course…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry if I…”

Amy reached out to lay her hand on his. She felt his fingers jerk beneath her touch, and she gave them a light squeeze. “George, it’s all right. Really. I understand if you don’t have the time to drag around town with me. I’m quite capable of finding my own way about. Really. Once I have my own car—”

“We’ll take care of that next week. And of course I have time to show you around.” He pulled in a deep breath. “It will be…er…fun.”

He’d sounded as if he wasn’t really sure what fun was. Well, Amy thought, with a little rush of anticipation, she was just the person to teach him. Maybe she could even persuade him to gamble with a little of his precious money. It would be great to see him relax and let go of that stuffy attitude. She had a feeling that once George learned to unbend and have fun, he would be devastatingly sexy.

She met his gaze again and he narrowed his eyes. “What are you grinning at now?”

She lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. “Just looking forward to tomorrow, that’s all. It sounds as if it’s going to be a great day.”

“Super,” George said dryly.

Amy woke up the next morning full of expectation for the day ahead. Things had been a little awkward between them when George had escorted her to her door the night before. She’d thanked him for the wonderful evening, saying it was the best time she’d had in a long time. For some reason, George had seemed upset by that and had disappeared into his apartment mumbling something that could have been “Sleep well,” but she couldn’t be sure.

Amy tried to analyze his reaction while she showered and dressed for their trip. It was hard to tell if he’d enjoyed the evening. Reading George’s mind would be like trying to penetrate Fort Knox. It was probably her imagination, but she had the feeling that all that control was holding down the lid on a lot of tension, and that one day he would blow his top like Mount St. Helens. She could only hope that she wasn’t the one to set him off. She had an idea that George Bentley, Jr., could be a dangerous animal once aroused.

The object of her speculation rapped rather imperiously on her door at precisely 8:00 a.m. She’d forgotten to ask if breakfast was included in the tour, and had hastily choked down a couple of handfuls of granola, washed down with a glass of milk. As usual, it didn’t sit well on her stomach and she’d barely recovered from her mad dash to the bathroom when George’s summons demanded her presence at the front door.

The first thing she noticed was his jeans. Somehow she hadn’t imagined him wearing anything but office casual. After greeting her, he walked rather stiffly past her into the room, giving her another opportunity to admire his lean hips in the snug denim. She closed the door, then turned to see him staring at her bare legs.

He hastily cleared his throat, then said gruffly, “You might feel chilly in shorts. It can be cool at the beach, even in the summer.”

“I’ll bring sweats with me.” She waved a hand at the couch. “Sit down, J.R. I’ll be ready in a minute. Can I get you some coffee?”

He shook his head. “I just had breakfast.”

She thought about the granola she hadn’t kept down. “Okay. I won’t be long.” She fled to the bedroom and hastily stuffed sweats into a bag, added suntan lotion and her purse, grabbed up her sunglasses and hurried back to the living room.

George sat with his hands pushed between his knees and his head bowed in deep thought.

Amy dropped the bag at his feet. “You okay?”

He started, then reached for the bag as he unwound himself from the couch. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about a client I’m working with right now. His finances are in a mess and it’s going to take some hard work to straighten them out.”

She moved closer to him and gazed up into his face. “George. It’s Sunday. Time to play. Let it go for the day.”

He stared down at her, and seemed to be seeing her for the first time. “You look a little peaked. Didn’t you sleep well?”

She backed away from him and headed for the door. “Too excited, I guess. I’m really looking forward to this trip, J.R.”

He followed her out of the door, and she walked with him to the elevator, wishing he could at least have shown some sign of enthusiasm as well.

The truth was, George was having a tough time dealing with the sight of Amy in shorts. She’d worn little else when she was a kid, but at nine years old Amy had legs that looked little better than the stick drawings she used to pin on his bedroom door.

Standing in the close confines of the elevator, he couldn’t help noticing that those legs had matured, along with the rest of her body. The expanse of smooth, golden skin beneath the hem of her khaki shorts was making him hot under the collar of his purple polo.

Although George would rather die than admit it to anyone, he was a leg man through and through. And Amy’s legs were enough to make a strong man cry. As if that wasn’t enough, she wore a yellow shirt that molded itself to her breasts and he could smell the wet roses perfume again.