Doreen Roberts - One Bride - Baby Included

He still had the same dark hair, though it was cut shorter, and there were faint crinkles at the corners of his dark-brown eyes. The no-nonsense chin had hardened into a rugged jaw, and his voice held a resonance that had echoed somewhere deep inside her when he’d spoken her name. Altogether, Georgie would have been a knockout in Willow Falls. The women would have been following him everywhere.

According to Aunt Betty, not too many women followed Georgie around Portland. Obviously he still had trouble in that department. Too bad his reserved nature hadn’t expanded along with his muscles.

“Is this your car?” she exclaimed, as he unlocked the trunk of a sleek blue Lexus. “Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.”

He opened the door for her and she slid onto the soft, smooth seat. The inside smelled faintly masculine—a mixture of leather and spicy cologne.

“Nice car,” she commented, hoping to get some reaction out of him. “Must have cost a bomb.”

“It did.” George patted the steering wheel with a proprietary air. “It was worth every penny.”

Well, it was obvious where his priorities lay. “Super!” she said, and sat back to enjoy the ride.

George sat by her side, his back as straight and stiff as a telephone pole as he maneuvered the car through the intricate maze of downtown streets. Amy kept up a stream of chatter, hoping to break through his faintly disapproving air.

She watched, fascinated, as they passed by tall high-rises, neat city parks, fancy hotels, quaint sidewalk cafés and interesting-looking stores. She just couldn’t wait to explore her new home, and bombarded George with questions about the city.

After a long period of receiving little more than noncommittal grunts in response to her comments, she glanced sideways at her host. He seemed upset by something. “I hope I’m not stopping you from doing something important,” she said tentatively. “I’m sure you’d rather be with your girlfriend.”

He sent her a startled glance. “What? Oh, no. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

She already knew that. George’s lack of women friends seemed to be Aunt Betty’s greatest disappointment in life. Still, she’d succeeded in getting his attention. “Why don’t you?”

His jaw clenched slightly. “Why don’t I what?”

“Have a girlfriend.”

She waited quite a while for his answer.

“Not that it’s any of your business, of course, but since my mother immediately jumps to the wrong conclusion on the subject, I’ll satisfy your inappropriate curiosity enough to say that I don’t have a girlfriend at this present time. I believe the expression is that I’m between relationships.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “You don’t have to be so defensive about it. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

“You were wondering if I’m gay.”

The idea hadn’t even occurred to her. She was awfully happy to know he wasn’t, though. “Not at all. I was just wondering why someone like you didn’t have hordes of women panting after you.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

She rather liked the way one of his eyebrows twitched. “Take it how you like.” Deciding it was time she changed the subject she leaned back in her seat. “Tell me all about River Park West. What’s it like there? Are there lots of singles? Do they have a rec room?”

“Fine, yes and yes.” He pulled up at yet another stoplight.

She watched his hands on the wheel—capable hands, with strong, square-cut nails. Everything about him seemed capable. And too controlled. She wondered just what it would take to penetrate those formidable defenses. “Swimming pool?” she prompted.

“There’s a swimming pool, yes.”

Just when she thought he wasn’t going to say anything else, he added, “And a gym.” The light turned green and he pulled forward.

“Ah!” Amy exclaimed. “So that’s where you get those muscles.”

His head jerked around as if he’d been stung. “Huh?”

She grinned at him. “You handled those cases like a WWF wrestler.”

He looked back at the road, but she could tell by his profile that she’d unsettled him. Terrific. It would do him good to get rattled now and again. No wonder he didn’t have girlfriends. He needed to lighten up if he wanted to get some fun out of life.

She tried to imagine the kind of woman Georgie would be interested in. Someone dark and mysterious, and at least four inches taller than her five-foot-four. Her complete opposite, in other words. Which was just as well, under the circumstances. Someone who looked like George Bentley, Jr., could make her forget the reason she’d left Willow Falls. And that would be a big mistake. For both of them.

George’s feeling of impending disaster intensified when he discovered that the apartment his mother had rented for Amy was directly opposite his own. The suspicion that had been hovering in the back of his mind leapt to the forefront. His mother was obviously trying to match him up with the brat. She had to be out of her mind. Well, this was one game she wasn’t going to win.

Scowling, he waited while Amy excitedly unlocked the door to her new home. Trust his mother to put her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. All those warnings about being a gentleman. Hah! If she was using some kind of reverse psychology to provoke him into trying something just to rebel, she’d underestimated his intelligence.

If Bettina thought, for one minute, he could ever be interested in a naive, tactless chatterbox like Amelia Richard, then she had bigger problems than he’d realized. It was bad enough he’d agreed to act as watchdog for a while. He’d be damned if he’d show the tiniest little bit of personal interest in Ben Richard’s daughter. There was a limit to the lengths he’d go to repay a debt.

Not that he disliked Amy, of course. In fact, there had been an occasion or two in the car when he’d been momentarily charmed by her candid comments. She was so appreciative of everything, so refreshingly excited about seeing Portland for the first time.

Most women he met weren’t that open. It was hard to tell when they were being sincere. He had never enjoyed playing those kinds of mind games, which was probably why he wasn’t in a relationship right now. Not that he wanted to be, of course.

The door swung open and Amy beamed at him. “Aren’t you going to carry me over the threshold?”

Taken aback, he stared at her, while his mind groped for a suitable answer.

Her laughter pealed out, echoing down the hallway. “Don’t look so horrified, Georgie, I was only teasing.”

He finally found his tongue. “I asked you not to call me by that name,” he said forcefully, but she’d already darted into the apartment. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the cases and followed her inside.

The living room matched his own, except it was back to front, though the furnishings made it look different. The tweed couch and armchair looked comfortable enough, and a small dinette set sat in the tiny dining area. A washed-out seascape hung on the wall, and beige drapes hung at the window. Color, George thought absently. That’s what the place needed. And a television. He couldn’t imagine being without a television. He wondered if Amy was having one delivered with the rest of her belongings.

She seemed thrilled with the drab-looking room, however. She flung out her arms and whirled around in a full circle. “Just look at this! Isn’t it super? I just love it. And it’s all mine.”

“As long as you pay the rent, anyway.” George dropped the bags in the middle of the beige carpet. “Where do you want these?”

“In the bedroom.” Amy danced across the room to the hallway. “Come on, it’s probably down here.”