simply couldn’t imagine why everyone from Pastor Carl Schlepinger to the newest clerk at the Kash ’n’ Karry sang Grayson Phillips’s praises so highly.
Until she opened the door.
She snapped her mouth shut. Standing there gaping like a dead guppy wouldn’t give a great first impression to the tall, drop-dead gorgeous man with riveting gray eyes and dark hair liberally shot with silver. His wide shoulders more than did justice to the well-cut tuxedo and perfectly tailored white shirt.
No ruffles. No baby blue polyester.
“Miss Wheatley?” the Adonis at her door asked. “I’m Gray Phillips.”
“Dr. Wheatley,” she said automatically, her voice husky from disuse.
“Of course. My mistake,” he replied, his sculpted features and intelligent eyes giving nothing away. “I’ve met your father, and please, I mean this as no disrespect to him, but you hardly resemble my only experience with a small-town doctor.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, trying to get her brain and mouth working in sync as she stepped out of his way. “Please, come in. And call me Amy.”
As he walked past her, she noticed that he smelled as good as he looked. So much for her theory on over-thirty single men, personal hygiene and blind dates.
She led him into the living room—not that there was much leading to be done. The front door opened into the room without so much as a half wall to divide the space. New beige carpet covered the floor, and the walls had been painted a pleasing eggshell, but there was only so much a person could do in the week and a half she’d been in town. Decorating hadn’t been high on her list of priorities, so the black leather sofa and matching chair she’d moved with her, along with a couple of nondescript tables, sat abandoned against the walls.
“I’m afraid I haven’t settled in much,” she explained as she rubbed her hands against the chill of the November air that entered along with her date for the evening. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
In what she was sure was a case of extremely good manners, he barely glanced at her plain-but-tidy home. His personal scrutiny made her mildly uncomfortable, as if she wanted to check her dress for wrinkles or her shoes for an errant piece of tissue. But despite her reaction, his expression never wavered from the polite interest he’d shown from the first.
“I’ll just get my coat, then,” she said, motioning toward the tiny closet near the front door.
As she grasped the wooden hanger, she felt his presence behind her. An unexpected chill slithered up her spine. She couldn’t blame this reaction on the uncommonly cold weather.
“You’re shivering,” he said, taking the wool-and-cashmere blend coat from her hands. “Allow me.”
His warmth enveloped her as she slid her arms into the sleek, cool satin lining. Unfortunately, she still felt just as shivery. She wrapped her arms around herself. “I suppose I’m not adjusting well to autumn. Except for this cold snap, the temperatures have been above normal.”
“How can you, in Texas? Warm one day, cold the next.” He made the comment without derision, just as polite as ever. So far, he was the perfect date, even when she’d resorted to talking about the weather to hide her unexpected reaction to him.
“You’re not from the Lone Star State?” she asked as she belted her coat. She stepped around him to retrieve her purse and gloves from the living room.
“Actually, I’m from Dallas, so as a native, I can indulge in a little mild criticism.”
Amy smiled at his rationale. “I know what you mean. We can say what we want, but just let some Yankee belittle our state…”
Grayson Phillips smiled. “Shall we go? I understand you’d like to show off a bit for the folks in Austin.”
Amy stopped beside the front door, her mouth gaping once again. “Who told you that?” Her lips thinned as she frowned. “No, let me guess. You’ve been talking to my father.”
“I saw him at the bank yesterday.”
“The man talks entirely too much.”
“He’s a charmer.”
“He’s a meddling old…never mind.” Amy squared her shoulders and clasped her purse to her side. “I’m sorry if you feel railroaded into this. I’d understand if you didn’t want to go.”
“On the contrary, Dr. Amy,” he said, a flash of real amusement in his silvery eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Great looks and humor, too. As he graciously escorted her toward his luxury car, Amy realized that was why Grayson Phillips really was the best blind date in Texas.
DR. AMY WHEATLEY WASN’T quite what he’d expected, Gray acknowledged as he pulled out of Ranger Springs onto the state highway. For one thing, no one had mentioned she was beautiful. Descriptions he’d heard had focused on her achievements in high school, college and medical school rather than her shining dark brown hair and lively blue eyes. Her father, and the rest of the community, for that matter, were very proud of their small-town girl.
Not just beautiful, though. She was also feminine and gave the impression of being slightly vulnerable. She’d obviously been trying to be as polite as he when he’d first arrived at her door. But during the few minutes they’d gotten acquainted at her home, she’d shown a wide range of emotions, from surprise to shyness to exasperation over her father’s meddling. While Gray had perfected the control he exerted over his own emotions and expressions, he appreciated Amy’s honest responses.
“I’ve heard a little about your new facility in town. What exactly do you produce?” she asked.
“Basically, Grayson Industries makes high-tech surveillance devices. Our main market is government as opposed to consumers who want to listen to what their neighbors are saying.”
He risked a glance at her. She appeared surprised, then perplexed. “You mean my neighbors could be eavesdropping on me? Or, worse yet, the government?”
Gray chuckled. “The technology has been around for years, so we’re not providing any less privacy to the average citizen than already exists. My company simply makes smaller, more flexible instruments for specialty surveillance situations.”
“You mean like spies?”
Gray smiled. He’d heard this all before, but he knew Amy’s worries were real to her. “There really aren’t too many James Bonds out there.”
“No, but isn’t industrial espionage on the rise?”
“It’s getting more sophisticated, but with computers and the Internet, more violations are occurring via online theft than through listening devices.”
“Hmm.” She paused as she looked at the fading sunset. “Still, doesn’t it worry you that your products will enable some criminals to steal secrets?”
“No more than if I made modems that allowed some hacker to access the Internet,” he answered, negotiating a series of
