gathered up her purse, gloves and daughters.“Girls, I think we should get out of here before another disaster occurs.”
“I agree,” Samantha said, her first sensible comment of the day, as far as Georgia was concerned.“For God’s sake, Georgia, stop staring at him like that. You’ll be drooling next.”
They hustled her out of the club and into the car with a speed that verged on panic.“You drive, Samantha. I want to talk to your sister,” Natalie ordered, handing over the keys to the Cadillac before climbing into the back seat with Georgia.
And talk she did, all the way back to the studio. Nonstop and frantically, pointing out all the things that Georgia already knew: that she’d got her life on track finally; that Steven was the most eligible bachelor in town and was completely devoted to her; that Adam Cabot had always been too much of a maverick to make good husband material and she was lucky—blessed, in fact-not to have ended up marrying him because it would have spelled disaster.
And somehow, Georgia wrapped herself in the remains of that fuzzy shroud of remoteness that had been her salvation in the past, and managed to nod and smile in all the right places. Did it so well, indeed, that when they dropped her off in the square outside her studio, she stood on the pavement and waved calmly until the car turned the corner.
Then she let herself into the studio, pulled the blind down over the window, turned out all but the security lights, and set the alarm system before letting herself out into the street again and locking the door. She wouldn’t be designing any more custom jewelry that day, nor the next, either.
It took very little time for her to drive home and pack a few essentials. Steven arrived just as she took the last load out to her car.
“Well,” he said, taking in the suitcase stowed neatly in the open trunk.“It seems I got here just in time.”
“I was going to stop by the bank and leave a note,” she said.
“Note, Georgia?” The gentle reproof in his tone made her feel very, very small and unworthy.“Don’t you think I deserve better than that?”
“You know what’s happened, don’t you?” she said miserably.“I wondered when you’d find out.”
“Everybody knows,” he said.“The whole town’s buzzing.”
“I imagine he’ll be in touch with you before the day’s over.”
Steven eyed the suitcase again.“I gather he’s already been in touch with you and that’s why you’re running away.”
“I’m not running away,” she insisted.“I’m in a state of shock and I just need to spend a little time alone to sort through a few things.” She made a helpless gesture with her hand.“I can’t do that here, Steven, so I thought I’d go up to your family’s chalet. Between commissions at work and a social calendar that’s fully booked from now until the wedding day, I won’t have a minute to myself and….”
He watched her, his honest gray eyes full of compassion.“Are we still going to have a wedding day, Georgia?” he asked, when at last she dribbled into silence.
He was a good man, a fine man. He was her best friend. If she married him, she would never know a moment’s insecurity or want. He would love her, cherish her, and gladly forsake all others for her. At the very least, he deserved her honesty now.“I don’t know,” she said.
He nodded sadly.“Then you must go and find out. Take your time, love. I’ll cover for you here.”
The fine thread by which she’d been hanging on to her control snapped at that. Like a child, she covered her face with her hands and burst out crying.
He reached out and held her, sheltering her in his arms, and she wished with all her heart that she could stay there and not have to face tomorrow.“I hate him,” she sobbed.“I don’t want things to be spoiled like this, and it’s all his fault.”
Steven stroked her hair.“It’s nobody’s fault, Georgia.”
“But I was so sure about us, until he showed up again.”
“I know.” He pulled away a little and just for a moment his resolution wavered enough to let his own pain show.“Georgia, marry me tonight. Let’s just go away and leave all this behind. So what if Adam has come back? You and I have been happy together, haven’t we? We can be again.”
Temptation lured, promising the easy road. But for how long? She shook her head.“I can’t,” she whispered.
He sighed heavily and slackened his hold.“No, I suppose not.”
She pulled away and accepted the handkerchief he offered.“Will your parents mind my using the chalet?”
“Of course they won’t. But will you be all right by yourself? There’s already been snow in the mountains and more is expected. The road might be bad.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
He held open the driver’s door of her car.“Then you’d better get going.”
She had never loved him more. Heavy with the knowledge that she was playing fast and loose with a man who was a prince by any standards, she backed down the driveway and drove to the outskirts of town, stopping only at the supermarket where she stocked up on enough groceries to get her through the next few days, and again at the service station to fill up with gas.
Daylight was just beginning to fade as she left Piper Landing and took the highway north toward the mountains.
Adam went for a long walk along the far side of the river that afternoon, partly as therapy to help restore the muscle tone in his injured leg and partly to get away from the general curiosity that his reappearance was arousing.
He supposed it was natural enough that people were interested, but what they didn’t seem able to appreciate was that he felt a bit like a goldfish in a bowl. And it was a difficult adjustment for a man who’d spent over a year in an isolated hunting camp in the Arctic.
What had really rattled him, though, had been running into the Chamberlaine women at lunch, with half Piper Landing society witness to the confrontation. He thought he’d acquitted himself well enough in the verbal exchange, but when he’d happened to glance up halfway through his meal to see Georgia being whisked away, he’d been unable to stop himself from swiveling in his chair and gazing after her with the lovelorn fascination of some twerp in an old black and white melodrama.
The plain fact was, she’d changed, and he wanted to acquaint himself with the new woman. Where before she’d been sculpted angles from her short, smart haircut to her elegant suits, now she flowed in softly feminine lines. Her hair kissed her shoulders, swirling over the ruffled nonsense of her blouse collar.
Her coat, winter-white where once she’d have chosen red or black, flared almost to her ankles. Her boots, her sole concession to the late November weather, were suede, with little dainty heels and tassels. Dancer’s footwear, delicate enough to perform a pas de deux.
But most of all, her eyes were different. Not in their color, that brilliant teal blue arresting enough to stop traffic, nor in their dramatic, heavily lashed shape borrowed from God knew which exotic ancestor, but
