Four Regency Rogues. Annie Burrows
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