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
