The thought of Amy in bed aroused the kind of sensation that was definitely off-limits.

Thank God she didn’t know what being close to her did to him.

This wasn’t the old days. Amy was no longer the skinny, smart-mouthed kid who had defied him when all he’d been trying to do was keep her out of trouble. She was a woman, in every sense of the word.

A pregnant woman, true, but that just made her all the more desirable. He wanted to protect her, to nurture her, to be there for her in every way possible. And the possibility that it might not be what she wanted drove him nuts.

Damn. The only good thing about this whole day was the fact that his dinner meeting had been a huge success. He was on his way to the top. And that was all that truly mattered.

Wasn’t it?

Dear Reader,

My, how time flies! I still remember the excitement of becoming Senior Editor for Silhouette Romance and the thrill of working with these wonderful authors and stories on a regular basis. My duties have recently changed, and I’m going to miss being privileged to read these stories before anyone else. But don’t worry, I’ll still be reading the published books! I don’t think there’s anything as reassuring, affirming and altogether delightful as curling up with a bunch of Silhouette Romance novels and dreaming the day away. So know that I’m joining you, even though Mavis Allen will have the pleasure of guiding the line now.

And for this last batch that I’m bringing to you, we’ve got some terrific stories! Raye Morgan is finishing up her CATCHING THE CROWN series with Counterfeit Princess (SR #1672), a fun tale that proves love can conquer all. And Teresa Southwick is just beginning her DESERT BRIDES trilogy about three sheiks who are challenged—and caught!—by American women. Don’t miss the first story, To Catch a Sheik (SR #1674).

Longtime favorite authors are also back. Julianna Morris brings us The Right Twin for Him (SR #1676) and Doreen Roberts delivers One Bride: Baby Included (SR #1673). And we’ve got two authors new to the line—one of whom is new to writing! RITA® Award-winning author Angie Ray’s newest book, You’re Marrying Her?, is a fast-paced funny story about a woman who doesn’t like her best friend’s fiancée. And Patricia Mae White’s first novel is about a guy who wants a little help in appealing to the right woman. Here Practice Makes Mr. Perfect (SR #1677).

All the best,

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

One Bride: Baby Included
Doreen Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To my wonderful editor, Lynda Curnyn, whose constant encouragement and loyalty helped put me back in the game. My deepest thanks.

And to my husband, Bill. Without your support, understanding, infinite patience and unswerving belief in me, I would have given up. “Thank you” simply isn’t enough. I love you.

Books by Doreen Roberts

Silhouette Romance

Home for the Holidays #765

A Mom for Christmas #1195

In Love with the Boss #1271

The Marriage Beat #1380

One Bride: Baby Included #1673

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Gambler’s Gold #215

Willing Accomplice #239

Forbidden Jade #266

Threat of Exposure #295

Desert Heat #319

In the Line of Duty #379

Broken Wings #422

Road to Freedom #442

In a Stranger’s Eyes #475

Only a Dream Away #513

Where There’s Smoke #567

So Little Time #653

A Cowboy’s Heart #705

Every Waking Moment #783

The Mercenary and the Marriage Vow #861

*Home Is Where the Cowboy Is #909

*A Forever Kind of Cowboy #927

*The Maverick’s Bride #945

A Very…Pregnant New Year #1047

DOREEN ROBERTS

lives with her husband, who is also her manager and her biggest fan, in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon. She believes that everyone should have a little adventure now and again to add interest to their lives. She believes in taking risks and has been known to embark on an adventure or two of her own. She is happiest, however, when she is creating stories about the biggest adventure of all—falling in love and learning to live happily ever after.

Dear Reader,

From the very first moment Amy Richards popped into my head, I knew she was special. Independent and free-spirited, she seemed like any other young woman seeking a new beginning. Yet Amy had a secret that could drastically change her life. In spite of her determination to go it alone, she needed someone strong to be there for her. I rejected many eager suitors until along came George.

George was a confirmed bachelor—the strong silent type. Married to his job, he didn’t have time for frivolous pursuits. He didn’t have time to baby-sit the scatterbrained brat who’d made his young life miserable with her teasing. He didn’t have time for Amy. Period.

Well, I tell you, I had an awful time getting these two together. They fought me all the way, and then something happened that neither of them had counted on. This is their story. I hope you enjoy it.

You can tell me what you think by writing to me at doreenrob@aol.com. I’m always thrilled to hear from my fans. I promise I’ll answer, and I thank you. Amy and George thank you, too.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One

“Absolutely not. It’s out of the question.” George Bentley, Jr., dabbed furiously at his mouth with his linen napkin and scowled across the spotless white tablecloth at his mother.

Framed by the tall window behind her, Bettina Bentley was a magnificent sight, as usual. Her blue feathered hat exactly matched the color of her elegant dress and jacket, her hair had been tinted a perfect shade of dark blond, and, with the help of clever makeup, she looked much younger than her fifty-six years.

Not that George appreciated the charming picture she made right then. He was too irritated.

“George.” His mother breathed his name, leaning forward until her bosom hovered perilously close to her hot fudge sundae. Her coated eyelashes flapped at him in feminine appeal. “I’m desperate. I promised Jessica you’d take care of things. Do be a darling. I assure you it will be fun.”

Fun? George almost snorted. He should never have accepted her invitation for dinner, even if Martoni’s was his favorite restaurant. He should have known she had something devious up her sleeve.

He glanced up at the sparkling chandeliers that hung from the ornate ceiling. Dining at Martoni’s was always a pleasant experience. The Italian-style furnishings and decor gave the whole room a festive atmosphere, with colorful floral arrangements and bright paintings of hot, sunlit streets hanging on the peach walls. Elegant—like his mother. Bettina revered elegance to the point of making it a religion.

Since the heart attack that had taken his father’s life, he’d done everything in his power to be there for his mother when she needed him, but sometimes her demands could border on outrageous.

He glared at her, more angry at himself than at her. “Mother, you must have a dozen friends who would be only too happy to show Amanda—”

“Her name is Amelia.”

“—Amelia the sights. After all, Portland isn’t exactly New York. It doesn’t take that long to find your way around.”

“I’m not asking you to show her the city. All cities are pretty much the same, after all. Oregon is such a beautiful state. I just know the girl would adore a trip to the mountains, the ocean, the gorge, the desert, the wineries.…” She paused to give him the smile she usually reserved for her charity targets. “You are terribly knowledgeable about wine, darling. I’m sure Amelia would be awfully grateful to learn from you. After all, one can never know enough about good wines, don’t you think?”

“Mother…” George laid his napkin down at the edge of his empty plate, “I do not have the time or the inclination to play travel guide to that little brat.”

Bettina’s perfectly tweezed brows rose a fraction. “How on earth can you say that? You don’t know anything about her. You can’t even remember her name, for heaven’s sake.”

“We practically grew up together. From what I remember, she took great pleasure in humiliating me.”

“Amelia liked to tease. It wasn’t her fault you had no sense of humor. Besides, that was fifteen years ago. Amelia was just a child then. She’s all grown up now.”

“In that case, she doesn’t need someone to show her around. She’s old enough to take care of herself. I have far better things to do with my time.”

The stubborn look he dreaded appeared in Bettina’s blue eyes. “Doing what? All I can say, George, is that your father would be most disappointed in you. He would have jumped at the chance to help Ben Richard’s daughter.”

George could never understand how a woman as tiny as his mother could have such a formidable will. His father had been a giant of a man, towering over his wife, yet had seemed totally incapable of opposing her. No wonder his son was having so much trouble filling his shoes. Afraid he might weaken, he strengthened his resolve. “I’m far too busy right now. My work—”

“You spend far too much time in the office.” Bettina wagged a finger at him. “When you’re not there you’re cooped up with no one but a cat to keep you company in that dreadful apartment, doing God knows what—”

He straightened. “The apartments at River Park West happen to be some of the nicest in town.”

“—when you should be out enjoying yourself with a nice young lady. All you care about is that job and that ridiculous car of yours.”

George took time out to swallow the last of his chardonnay. Even so, he couldn’t quite contain his resentment when he said stiffly, “My Lexus happens to be an excellent car, my job pays my rent and I have all the social activities I can handle.”

Bettina uttered a short bark of derision. “Two nights a week at a fitness club? An occasional night at the theater? You call that a social life? You happen to be a very handsome man, George, if I say so myself. There are at least three women in this room right now who can’t keep their eyes off you. You have the looks, the money and the time, so why don’t you have girlfriends? What’s wrong with you? You’re thirty-two years old, for heaven’s sake. You should be giving me grandchildren.” Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward again. “You’re not one of them, are you, George? Surely a son of mine—”

George gritted his teeth. “As I’ve told you before, many times I might add, I am not gay. You know very well I’ve had some very…healthy relationships in the past. I’m just not in one now, that’s all. I haven’t the time.”

“Of course you have the time. I’ll never understand why you can’t be more like David. At least he joined the navy to see the world. The most you see are the four walls of your apartment. You don’t know what it is to be adventurous.”

Ignoring the pang that had hit him at the mention of his younger brother, George muttered darkly, “I spent half my life keeping David out of trouble. That was enough adventure to last me a lifetime.”

Bettina studied him with a maternal eye. “What you need is a good woman. At least then you would have sex regularly. Every man needs plenty of sex to stay healthy.”

It was time, George decided, that he put an end to this conversation. Discussing his sex life with his mother was low on his list of enjoyable pursuits. “Well, Mother, this has been quite nice, but now I really do have to get back to the office.”

“Not until we have this settled.”

“It is settled as far as I’m concerned. Get someone else to keep an eye on the brat.”

For a dreadful moment he thought his mother was going to cry. Her face puckered up, and he actually saw a tear glistening on her feathery eyelashes. “How can you be so callous, George! Have you forgotten that Ben Richard saved your father’s life in Vietnam? Why, if it hadn’t been for Amelia’s father, you would not have been born. Surely this is little enough to ask when you owe that brave man your very existence? Not to mention thirty years of your father’s life. If your father had been here, he would have expected you to do it. You know that.”

George squirmed in his chair. She’d found his Achilles’ heel. “Well, I suppose…if you put it like that…”

Bettina’s tears vanished and she beamed at him. “So you will meet Amelia at the bus station, then? The bus from Willow Falls arrives on Saturday at three-thirty.”

He made one last desperate attempt. “Why can’t you meet her? You have far more time on your hands than I do.”

“I promised Jessica you’d help her get settled. The child has lived in that sleepy little country town all her life. She’s been protected all those years by four big brothers. She knows nothing about the hazards of city life. She needs someone responsible to watch over her.”

George rolled his eyes heavenward. “Why me?”

“Because,” Bettina said, answering the hypothetical question, “when my dearest and best friend asks me to find someone to protect her youngest child and only daughter, I feel obliged to offer the most competent and reliable candidate available.”

Less than gratified by the compliment, George mumbled under his breath, “I’d like to know who’s going to protect me.”

Apparently deciding to ignore the comment, Bettina rattled on. “I thought it would be nice if you helped her settle in her apartment. Did I tell you I rented one for her in your complex? Since you seem so pleased with it, I decided it had to be a quiet, respectable place to live.”

Horrified at the news, George cursed under his breath. He’d lost the damn battle. If he didn’t do this, he had no doubt his mother would lay a guilt trip on him a mile long. “Very thoughtful of you, Mother,” he said tightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

“Thank you, George.” Bettina smiled fondly at her son. “I knew I could rely on you. Amelia is leaving home for the first time and she’ll need someone she can rely on. I trust you to be the perfect gentleman, of course. No hanky-panky. I promised her mother, so don’t you dare let me down.”

George walked around the table to pull back Bettina’s chair. “You’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about, Mother. If, for some inexplicable reason, I needed that kind of relationship, and I can assure you I don’t, I wouldn’t be in the least interested in a country brat like Amanda Richard. My tastes in women run more to sophistication, maturity and a little spice to liven things up.”

If he’d hoped to shock his mother, he was disappointed. “Her name is Amelia,” Bettina said crisply. “Do at least get her name right, George. We don’t want her to think you’re a complete ignoramus, now do we?”

Having successfully achieved the last word, she swept from the restaurant, leaving George to follow with a grim sense of impending doom.

Three days later he stood near the entranceway to the bus station, wishing he were anywhere but in the heart of the city on a hot summer day. This was the weekend, for pity’s sake. He should be relaxing with his feet up in his air-conditioned living room, reading the new book he’d bought on financial security. Or maybe listening to his favorite jazz station. Anywhere but in this depressing dump with all the noise and smelly fumes and ominous vagrants hovering around.

How anyone as respectable as the innocent young woman he was supposed to meet could spend more than five minutes aboard one of those menacing monsters pulling into the station he couldn’t imagine. Why on earth hadn’t the girl flown in?

The door of the bus opened and people began spilling out. A rough-looking guy with a beard was the first to alight, followed by a stout woman with her arms full of packages.

George’s interest quickened at the sight of the next passenger. She wore high-heeled boots with jeans that tightly encased her lithe figure. An oversized, bulging purse swung from her slender shoulder and she carried a black leather jacket over her arm. Silky auburn hair bounced around her cheeks as she danced down the steps with an air of someone embarking on an exciting adventure.

George watched her as she reached the ground and turned to put her hand under the arm of a frail elderly woman struggling down the steps behind her. The woman smiled, and said something that made the redhead laugh—a musical sound that seemed to echo deep in George’s gut.

Reluctantly he dragged his gaze away from the pair and studied the rest of the passengers as they stepped down. He should have asked his mother what Amanda—Amelia looked like now. The last time he’d seen her she was a skinny nine-year-old, with pigtails and braces and freckles swarming across her nose. He didn’t remember her face that well…but he did remember her voice. High-pitched and painfully shrill.

At seventeen he’d been miserably shy. Too shy to ask a girl to the prom. Too shy to ask a girl to dance. Amelia had had a knack of making him feel clumsy and ineffective. He remembered her taunts as clearly as if he’d heard them a week ago. Georgie Porgie kissed the girls and ran away. Are you afraid of girls, Georgie Porgie?

Actually, he had been, kind of. The thought of going on a date with a girl had terrified him until shortly after his nineteenth birthday when he’d met Marilyn, a bold, uninhibited twenty-one-year-old who had decided it was her duty to teach him the ways of the world. Marilyn had changed his thinking forever. He wondered whatever had happened to her.

Lost in the past, he failed to notice that all the passengers had disembarked from the bus until the thunderous roar of the engine startled him out of his trance. Only three people looked as if they were waiting for someone. The bearded man, a young boy and the redhead. The elderly woman, whom he’d assumed had accompanied the redhead, had disappeared.

Frowning, George studied the boy. The height and weight were about right, but the dark, greasy hair seemed all wrong. Besides, he definitely looked like a boy, though one could never tell these days. George dug deep in his memory, trying to remember the color of Amelia’s hair. Of course. How could he forget? It was a flaming ginger red.

He glanced at the redhead. She stood several yards away with two large suitcases at her feet and a lost expression on her face. A very attractive face, George noticed. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from there but somehow he got the idea they were green. Green eyes went with red hair. Amelia’s eyes were green.

Surprised that he’d remembered that, he stared at the redhead. No, it couldn’t be. Not in a million years. Amelia was country—pigtails and freckles. This woman looked far too citified and classy to have come from Willow Falls, Idaho.

The woman turned her head just then and her gaze locked with his. He saw uncertainty hover in her face, while a questioning smile played around her generous mouth. Now he knew why her laugh had stirred a chord. Still unable to believe what he was seeing, he watched her lift a hand to wave at him.

Amelia Richard had arrived.

He headed in her direction, wishing he’d worn a crisp dress shirt instead of the dark-blue polo shirt he’d snatched from the closet that morning. As he approached, she called out in a voice that was at least an octave lower than he remembered, “Georgie? It is you, isn’t it?”

At the sound of that hateful name he cringed inside. There was no doubt now. Amelia the brat. He did his best to look amiable. At least he managed to get her name right. “Amelia. How are you? How was the trip?”

She smiled happily at him. He hadn’t realized she had dimples. Fascinating. The freckles seemed to have all but disappeared from her cute nose. Right then she didn’t look at all like the kid who’d taunted him all those years ago. She looked…mature, sophisticated, with a definite touch of spice gleaming in her lovely green eyes.

Just the kind of woman he would have stared at across a crowded room, a woman with whom he’d share a glass of wine in front of a roaring fire, dance with to slow, sensual music. Maybe drift toward the bedroom…

Shocked to realize where his thoughts were taking him, he abruptly dropped the hand he’d extended before she could grasp it.

Then she spoke, shattering the vision. “Super to see you again, Georgie! You look great! Thanks a heap for coming to meet me. Just call me Amy. Everyone does.”

He gritted his teeth. That name again. The cultured look had fooled him. She was still the brat from Willow Falls. “I’ll remember to call you Amy,” he said grimly, “if you promise never to call me Georgie again.”

The look in her eyes turned wary. “Oh…wow…okay then. Sorry. Force of habit, I guess. I always think of you as Georgie, but I’ll try to remember.” She gestured at the bulging bags at her feet. “This is all I’ve got for now. The rest is coming along later. Aunt Betty said the apartment was furnished, right?”

Still taken aback at the discovery that she’d thought about him all these years, he shook his head in confusion. “Aunt Betty?”

She nudged his arm with her elbow. “Your mother, silly. Who else would I mean?”

“You call her Aunt Betty?” He wondered how his mother felt about that. Somehow he couldn’t see her as anyone’s Aunt Betty.

She nodded cheerfully. “Always have. Mom talks about you both quite a lot.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help wondering just what fascinating tidbits about him his mother had passed on to Jessica Richard and her exuberant daughter.

“Really.” Amelia beamed at him.

Dazzled in spite of himself, he seized a suitcase in each hand and almost groaned when he felt the weight of them. Someone must have helped her with her bags. She couldn’t possibly have lifted them herself.

He felt somewhat vindicated when she said hurriedly, “Hope they’re not too heavy for you. I had to cram as much as I could into them. Heaven knows when the rest will get here. The poor driver took two tries to wrestle them out of the luggage compartment.”

Determined to impress her, he swung the cases off the ground, and almost swung himself off his feet. “Car’s outside,” he panted, then staggered out into the burning sun.

Amy had to admit as she followed him that Georgie was stronger than he looked. Tight buns, too. He must take very good care of his body. Who would have thought that the wiry, nervous, irritable teenager she’d adored as a child would have grown into such a striking specimen of manhood? She’d hardly recognized him at first. He seemed so much taller now. He’d always been nice-looking, but now that he’d grown up and filled out, he was so much more virile than she remembered.

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.

Chapter Two

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.”

The last place on earth George wanted to be right then was in a bedroom with Amy. Nevertheless, he hauled the cases down the hallway, pausing outside the open bedroom door to dump the cases just inside.

“Thank you, Georgie. You’re a sweetie.” Amy bounced up and down on a bare mattress. “Come and try this out. It feels so comfy. I’ll sleep as sound as a rock tonight.”

George cleared his throat. “Amy, I have to insist. My name is not Georgie. I hate Georgie. You have to call me George.”

She pursed her lips, and something stirred way down in his gut. “Well, I don’t like George, either. It sounds so pompous and stuffy.”

She studied him while he stood there feeling a little like a giraffe on display in the zoo. Then she flicked her fingers at him. “I know! You’re a junior, aren’t you? I’ll call you J.R. It gives you a sort of sinister air, like the J.R. in Dallas. Real exciting.”

She had an irritating way of tying his tongue up in knots. He untangled his thoughts. “You can’t be old enough to have watched Dallas.”

“Of course I am! It was my favorite show.” She sent him that dazzling smile of hers.

He caught a glimpse of small, very white, even teeth and the stirring in his belly struck again. “I imagine you’re tired after your long trip,” he said hopefully. “You must be ready to put your feet up.”

Amy shook her head. He watched, fascinated, as her shiny auburn hair swung against her cheek. “Nope, I’m not tired. I’m too excited to be tired. I can’t wait to explore Portland!”

Remembering his promise to Bettina, George almost groaned out loud. There went his relaxing weekends. Mountains, desert, gorge, beach, wineries—maybe if he crammed them all into one weekend and got it over with, that would be enough to satisfy his mother. Right now, though, he needed some time to prepare himself for the ordeal.

“Well, I have some errands to run.” He deliberately stared at his watch. “I’ll leave you to unpack and get acquainted with your new home.”

“No, wait!” She leapt to her feet. “Can I come with you? I have to buy groceries and bedding and kitchen stuff, and I don’t have a car.”

George kept his gaze on his watch. The book on financial security was waiting invitingly on his coffee table. He was hot and he was tired. What’s more, he was afraid that if he hung around her for too much longer, he’d forget why it was so imperative to stay immune to all that bounce and fervor. “I’m really short on time,” he said, not really expecting her to take no for an answer.

He was right. When he looked up again she was standing directly in front of him, her toes almost touching his. She smelled of roses after a spring rain. He caught his breath, wondering when in the heck he’d last smelled wet roses.

She tilted her head back and looked up at him, her eyes mossy green beneath extraordinary thick lashes. That damn squirming in his belly was getting worse.

“Please, J.R.,” she said softly. “I really do need your help.”

Okay, so she was right about the initials. He kind of liked the sound of them. They had an executive ring. The voice of authority. Not bad. Still, an afternoon with her at the mall shopping for bedding…

Amy tilted her head to one side and smiled hopefully at him.

George wavered.

“I don’t have anyone else I can ask,” Amy said earnestly, “except your mother, of course. I really don’t want to disturb her.”

At the mention of his mother, red flags started flapping madly in his brain. He could just see Bettina now—eyes gleaming while she bombarded Amy with questions and misconstrued every answer. “I’ll take you,” he said shortly. “But you’ll have to make some snap decisions.”

Amy nodded, her face solemn. “I’ll be just as snappy as you want.”

He eyed her, suspecting she was teasing him again, but her lovely eyes gazed at him with pure innocence. Once more he had to gather his thoughts. “All right. The mall is about ten minutes away. Do you know what you need?”

“I have a list. It’s in my bag out there.”

He stepped back to let her pass, then followed her down the hallway to the living room. He waited while she emptied an amazing assortment of items from the shoulder bag, then slung it over her shoulder.

“I’m ready.” Once more she flashed him that devastating grin. “Let’s go.”

He led the way to the car, trying to work out how many miles per day he could cover on his whirlwind tour of the countryside.

“So where are you working now, J.R.?” Amy asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“I’m an advisor in a pretty important financial consulting company,” George said, his mind still on miles per hour.

“Isn’t that awfully dull?”

George forgot about mountains and desert. This was his favorite subject. “Dull? It’s the most fascinating and rewarding profession as far as I’m concerned. There’s a tremendous responsibility in managing someone’s money. It’s like a sacred trust. These people are trusting in you to secure their future. The thrill I get when a client’s investments go through the roof is indescribable. Not that there’s been a lot of that lately, with the downturn in the economy. The challenge now is to make sure there are no heavy losses. One has to be conservative in this climate.…”

Carried away by his enthusiasm, he failed to notice Amy’s expression until she said clearly, “J.R., you really need to get a life.”

Offended, he risked a glance at her. She looked perfectly serious. Indignant now, he said stiffly, “I beg your pardon?”

She uttered a noisy sigh. “Any man whose biggest thrill is watching someone else’s money accumulate definitely needs a life. There is so much more out there to get excited about besides the almighty dollar.”

George tightened his mouth. She was attacking his very existence. “I’d like to see people manage without money.”

“A lot of people get by on very little, and a lot of them are perfectly happy. Money doesn’t buy happiness, Georgie. You should know that.”

Wondering what had happened to J.R., George squared his shoulders. “It’s not a matter of what money buys. It’s a matter of helping people manage what they’ve got.”

“And most of your clients have a lot of it, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well, there you are then.”

Confused, he sensed he’d lost some kind of battle. He just wished he knew what the conflict had been about. It was time he changed the subject, he decided. “My mother said you were looking for work in Portland. What kind of work?”

“Computer graphics. I have a degree in commercial arts, and I want to work in advertising. I don’t suppose you can help?” Her tone had suggested she didn’t have much hope of him being any help at all.

He turned into the busy parking lot of the mall and nosed the car into a space before answering. Remembering his enormous debt to her father, he said cautiously, “I might be able to help. A couple of my clients are execs in big corporations. I could sound them out for you, but I can’t make any promises, of course.”

“Of course,” Amy said solemnly.

He cut the engine and looked at her. She smiled at him, unsettling his belly again. “Thank you, J.R.,” she said softly. “I owe you one.”

To cover his confusion he said a little too sharply, “Don’t thank me yet. Nothing may come of it.” He opened the door and climbed out, beginning to wish he hadn’t made the offer. She was bound to be disappointed with him when it didn’t work out.

Amy was already out of the car when he rounded the trunk to the other side. She stood gazing at the medley of stores, her eyes wide. “Wow, this is a big mall.”

“You should find what you need here.” He gestured at the department store straight ahead. “I know this one has some fairly decent prices. I’d try there first. I’ll meet you back at the car in an hour, okay?” He glanced at his watch.

“Oh, but I thought you were coming with me!” Her green eyes mesmerized him again. “I need someone to give me opinions on colors and patterns and stuff.”

“I don’t know anything about colors and patterns and…” He cleared his throat again. “Get one of the salespeople to help you. After all, that’s what they’re there for.”

“They’re too prejudiced. Besides, they’ll suggest the most expensive stuff.” To his dismay she linked her arm in his. “Come on, J.R., I promise it won’t take long.”

Without waiting for his answer, she dragged him toward the store. Short of digging in his heels and snatching his arm away, he was obliged to go with her.

Once inside the store, Amy dashed from department to department, holding up sheets and towels for his inspection.

Plagued by visions of her wrapped in a fuzzy yellow bath towel and snuggling under green striped sheets in that “comfy” bed, George’s mouth felt dry as he nodded at almost everything she held up. If someone had asked him afterward, he wouldn’t have remembered one thing that she bought. All he could think about was how soon he could get out of there.

Much as he hated to admit it, he felt manipulated again. Damn his mother for getting him into this. But as long as he was committed, at least for a while, he would make sure that Amy understood that this time around, he called the shots. This was his town, and his life, and if she wanted him to help her settle in, she’d have to let him lead. He was in charge.

The idea cheered him up immensely. He’d get a great deal of satisfaction in letting Amelia Richard know that he was no longer the shy, ineffectual, clumsy oaf, perpetually tongue-tied whenever she showed up. Events had come full circle, and now it was his turn to be in command of the situation. And he’d be a lot kinder about it than she had been.

Loaded down with packages, he staggered after Amy as she headed for the doors of the store which led out into the enclosed mall. “The car’s the other way,” he said, trying not to pant as she paused in front of him.

“I have one more really quick stop,” she said, looking apologetic for once. “You don’t mind, do you, J.R.?”

When she gazed at him like that and called him J.R., it was difficult to deny her anything. He hauled the packages higher and did his best to make them seem featherweight. “All right, as long as it’s just one more. I really do have to get home.”

Her smile seemed to take a few pounds off his burden. “You’re an angel. It’s just down here. I saw it on the directory.” She sprinted off again and disappeared into the depths of a small shop tucked between a shoe store and one selling sporting goods.

He paused at the display of sporting goods in the window, his mind busily working out a schedule for Amy’s tour. Absorbed in his thoughts, he moved on to the entrance of the shop, only to freeze in the doorway when he realized he was about to enter Victoria’s Secret.

Before he could back out again Amy caught sight of him. She waved something at him, calling out loud enough for everyone to hear, “Hey, J.R., what do you think of these?”

Blood rushed to his cheeks when he saw the scrap of purple lace dangling from her fingers. He noticed faces turning his way and cursed himself for not paying attention to where he was going. He stumbled backward out of the doorway and waited outside the sporting goods store, furious at himself, his mother and Amy. Especially Amy. She’d made him feel like that gauche, awkward teenager again. If she’d been anyone else but Ben Richard’s daughter, he’d tell his mother to find someone else to watch over her precious Amelia.

Inside the lingerie store Amy hurriedly made her purchases. After seeing the look on Georgie’s face, she felt bad about embarrassing him. She certainly hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable. She just had to remember that not all men were as lecherous as her four brothers.

His face still appeared stern and unapproachable when she joined him outside the store. Ignoring the frosty gleam in his dark eyes, she said brightly, “I’m all done. You can take me home now.”

He flicked his gaze across her face, then away. “What about your groceries?”

“I noticed a convenience store a couple of blocks from the apartments. I’ll walk over there later.” She took one of the packages from him. “I’ll just order in a pizza or something for dinner.”

He marched along by her side without speaking until they were out in the parking lot. Just before they reached the car he said quietly, “You shouldn’t be eating alone in your apartment your first night in town. It will take you a while to settle in. I’ll take you out to dinner, if you like.”

Surprised by this unexpected gesture she smiled up at him. “Really? That would be wonderful! I’d love that!”

He nodded, and she was relieved to see the harsh lines of his face softening. He really was a good-looking man when he wasn’t scowling. And so sweet and thoughtful, too. It was really too bad he hadn’t stayed in Willow Falls. Maybe if he had, she wouldn’t be in the mess she was in now.

“There’s a good seafood restaurant over there,” George said, as they pulled off the freeway headed for home. “They do an excellent crab dinner.”

Amy shuddered. “Sorry, I don’t like crab.”

He looked at her in amazement. “Everyone likes crab.”

“Not when it makes you erupt in ugly red blotches all over your body.”

Something flickered in his eyes and his voice sounded a little husky when he said, “They serve other foods as well.” He took a hand off the wheel to gesture at the window. “There’s a really good steak house if you prefer steak.”

“I try to stay away from red meat.” Aware she was sounding picky, she added hurriedly, “I like chicken and fish, though.”

“Except crab.”

She gave him a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Chinese?”

She shrugged. “Not really.”

His breath came out a little forcefully. “All right, I’ll take you to an excellent downtown restaurant. They have an extremely varied menu and a great wine cellar. I’m sure you’ll find something you like there.”

“It sounds great. Thanks, J.R. It really is nice of you to go to all this trouble.”

She was rewarded with a tight smile. “My pleasure.”

A few minutes later they arrived back at the apartments, and George helped carry her purchases inside.

“Just dump them on the couch,” she said, as he stood, looking a little unsure of himself, in the middle of her living room.

“Won’t you need this stuff in the…er…bedroom?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest he help her make up the bed, but she stopped herself just in time. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of it later. I’ll let you get back to your errands.”

He flashed her a quick glance. “Oh, well, it was nothing important.” He dropped the heavy packages on the couch. “Sure you can manage?”

“Sure. Thanks a heap for taking me shopping.”

“Anytime. Though you will have to see about a car eventually. Our transportation services are pretty good, but if you want to get around outside the city you’ll need a car.”

“Oh, I plan to get one. I sold mine before I left Willow Falls. It was falling apart anyway.” She gazed up at him. “I could really use some good advice on buying a car.”

George coughed. “Well, I’m no expert, but I guess I could give you some pointers.”

“Super. We’ll check out some used cars.” She moved over to the door and opened it. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Later?”

“For dinner?”

“Oh, right!” He hurried over to the door. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’ll be ready.” She beamed at him.

He bumped his shoulder as he went through the door. He didn’t seem to notice.

She closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment as her smile faded. George was a challenge and she’d enjoyed rattling his cage. For a little while life had been fun again. For a little while she’d forgotten why she’d left home to start life all over again in a strange town. For a little while she’d even managed to keep Luke’s face out of her mind, and the cruel words he’d flung at her that last day just before he’d roared off in a hot cloud of dust.

The pain was still there, and it hurt just as much now as it had then. But she was learning to deal with it. And soon she’d face her problem and do something about it. But not now. Not yet. Not until she couldn’t avoid it any longer.

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