“Do you find a woman in every town on your book tour?” she asked, planting her free hand on her hip. “Do you pick a pretty one who looks lonely, make her feel something for you, give her all kinds of hope, and then leave? Is that how you get inspiration for your books? If you do, that’s plain cruel.”
Before his crazy writing session this morning, he’d never used a woman to get inspiration for a story. But there was something about Georgia that lit a fire inside him. He felt ablaze. Like a live wire, bursting with raw energy. Creating a heroine this morning was easier than it’d ever been.
Georgia somehow made him feel as if this time could be different. As if he might not run from woman to woman if he could hold her in his arms.
“I didn’t mean to do that to your friend, April.” Grayson swallowed hard, feeling as if he’d lined up in front of the shooting squad. “If you tell me where I can find her, I’ll make everything right.”
She stared, her lips pressing into a thin white line.
April was a great friend to protect Georgia this way. She couldn’t know what was spinning in Grayson’s head, but he didn’t want to hurt Georgia. If she gave him a chance—one he certainly didn’t deserve—he’d work on being a better man every day. He’d make mistakes—he was far from perfect—but Georgia made him want to try.
And that was a damned first.
“If you’re not going to tell me where she is,” he said, “maybe you could give her a message for me?”
She huffed, blowing layers of chocolate-brown hair out of her face. “Fine.”
As Grayson gathered his thoughts, a twentysomething guy in a suit and tie strolled around the nearest table.
“April!” the stranger blurted. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
They were about to be interrupted, and time was slipping through his fingers.
“If you could tell Georgia that I—”
Putting up her hand to silence him, April turned toward the intruder, giving him her full, undivided attention. It was the cold shoulder of cold shoulders. Grayson couldn’t even be mad at her for it, considering it was in the service of a friend.
“We’re about to close down the auction, Dr. MacDermott. Can I help you find something?”
Doctor?
The guy had long black hair à la George Clooney from his early ER days, but his face looked more like Doogie Howser with a clean-shaven jaw and wide eyes. He approached them and smiled, nearly blinding Grayson with the whiteness of his teeth. And unless the guy was planning to go down a ski run on his head, he really needed to lay off the hair gel. That shit was dangerously slick.
April seemed to enjoy staring at his baby face. She grinned sweetly, stars twinkling in her eyes. The title of “doctor” probably had that effect on a lot of women.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your private conversation…” Doogie said.
Then don’t.
“…but I was wondering if you could help me find someone’s box? I don’t want to bid on which one I think it is, in case I’m wrong and end up misleading someone else.”
“Oh yeah, that’d be horrible.” April shot Grayson a nasty glare. “It’s so thoughtful of you to think about that.”
Grayson gritted his teeth. Nothing like being held to the fire…
“I’ve had my eye on her for a while,” Doogie said, putting his hand over his heart, “but I’ve been waiting for today to let her know how I feel.”
The hair on the back of Grayson’s neck stood on end.
“That’s the sweetest thing…and so sincere, too.” April shifted the box to her other hip and pushed it out. “Who are you looking for?”
Don’t say it.
“Georgia Swift.”
God damn it to hell. And back again.
He didn’t want to fight a doctor, but he would for her. Wait…a tiny streak of hope sang through Grayson’s veins. If he couldn’t find Georgia’s box in the sea of other boxes, Dr. Doogie wouldn’t be able to find it, either.
“Oh!” April set down the box in her arms. “This is Georgia’s right here. I was just about to take it inside.”
Seriously? She’d had it with her the whole time?
“Good timing, then.” Doogie whipped a pen out of his breast pocket, but not before Grayson got a clear shot of the contents in Georgia’s D-Day box.
It was a hopeless romantic’s dream.
She’d put in a bottle of StoneMill Red, a box of truffle and pecan squares from the Candy Shoppe (wrapped in cellophane and tied with a big red bow), a flannel blanket, and a leather-bound copy of Hamlet.
The last item made his heart squeeze. Was he meant to see Hamlet and know it was Georgia’s box? Had she hoped he’d be standing here, ready to bid on her box, and take her out?
“What’s the current bid?” Smiling smugly, Doogie raised his chin.
Grayson fought the urge to nudge it back down…with his fist. Instead, he leaned over to catch a glimpse at the bidding sheet. “I was wondering the exact same thing.”
“Two hundred,” April said quickly, covering the paper with her hand.
Heart hammering against his ribs, Grayson waited for Doogie to make his bid. So he could top it. There was no way he’d allow Doogie to take Georgia on a date that included wine and a blanket.
“Would you like to bid first?” Doogie offered his pen to Grayson.
Chivalrous sucker.
But Grayson wasn’t falling for Doogie’s games. He might not have gone to medical school, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot. Doogie wanted Grayson to bid first so he could top it, and it’d be a done deal.
That was his plan, damn it.
Grayson smiled as wide as he could, and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you go ahead and bid first. I’m not in a hurry.”
April turned to him. “But I thought you said—”
“Plans change, April.”
“Your plans change as quickly as your heart, it seems.” April tapped him in the shoulder with the bidding sheet. “But did you know Dr. MacDermott and Georgia went to school together? They’ve been friends for years. Talk about a solid foundation.”
“That’s great,” Grayson said, keeping his eyes trained on Dr. Slick. “You going to bid or stand there and play with your pen?”
April cleared her throat awkwardly. “It’s really great they’ve been friends for so long.” She spoke her words slowly. Deliberately. “Their families know each other. They attend the same Blue Lake functions each year, including the charity benefits.”
Oh yeah, the guy was a saint.
Still didn’t mean he was leaving with Grayson’s girl.
“What are your plans for the next few years, Dr. MacDermott?” April asked, folding her arms over her chest.
He frowned, tapping the pen against his mouth. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Where do you see yourself?” She waved her hand in the air between them. “In your career?”
“I’d like to continue working at Kiss County Medical Center, for one.” He pointed to the paper full of bids. “Do I have to fill that out on here somewhere? Did they change the rules?”
Doogie may’ve been book smart, but he failed when it came to common sense.
“But you plan to stay in Blue Lake, right?” April said, pushing out the words. “You’ll start a family here?”
“That’s the plan,” Doogie said simply. “I’ve dreamed of that my whole life.”
Just as Georgia had.
Grayson chewed on the side of his lip as Dr. MacDermott went on and on about his plans for his future. He was local. Born and raised in Blue Lake, just as Georgia had been. He wanted a big family like the one he’d come from.
And the sucker seemed genuine.
Everything in Grayson’s body screamed to fight for Georgia, to rip the bidding sheet out of Doogie’s hands and tear it to shreds. He didn’t want Georgia to date anyone else. Yet even as Doogie scrawled his bid, a bitter taste formed in the back of Grayson’s thro
at.
Dr. Doogie was stable. He wanted the same things Georgia wanted. He didn’t have a track record with women that’d make Hugh Hefner jealous. Although Grayson hated to admit it, Doogie seemed like a stand-up kind of guy.
If Doogie was right for Georgia—if he’d make her happy—he’d leave.
That was the only thing that’d make him walk away.
“You know Georgia best.” Grayson pretended to walk past April, but stopped at her shoulder and kept his voice low. “Tell me…honestly. Is he the hero she’s looking for?”
April glanced at Doogie, and Grayson’s gaze followed. He shot them a thousand-watt smile and then gave them a crooked thumbs-up.
“I don’t know.” The gleam in April’s eyes was surprisingly sympathetic. “But I know one thing for sure: you’re going to break her heart in the end. If you top his bid out of jealousy, or a stupid competitive instinct, she might not get this chance again. It’s taken Dr. MacDermott years to build up the nerve,” she whispered. “Don’t ruin her chance at happiness.”
That—right there—trumped everything.
She deserves better.
There they were again—those three stinging words that made Grayson’s heart thud against his rib cage.
Grayson nodded, bit back the words pressing at his lips, and shook Dr. MacDermott’s hand.
It Must’ve Been Love: Chapter Seven
A few hours after closing up the Book Bandit, Georgia perched on the edge of the couch on the side of the store and gave Hamlet’s head a scratch. He groaned, laying his head back on the pillows as her fingers raked through his fur.
“It’s just you and me, bud.” She rubbed his back and gazed out the front window. “And right now, that sounds heavenly.”
Although she wavered all afternoon on whether she’d made the right decision to remove her box from the D-Day festivities, she finally decided it was best. Having to put on a happy face when she was feeling like garbage would’ve been exhausting.
Darkness had fallen over Blue Lake quickly, bringing a dusting snowstorm with it. The windows of the store had fogged over completely, and tiny slow flurries gathered along the base of the window, creating pillows of white against the glass.
It was the best weather for curling up with a good book.
If she had someone beside her, it might’ve been—nope, no way. She wasn’t even going to finish the thought.
“Do you want me to read to you tonight? Huh, boy?” Georgia moved behind the register and grabbed her copy of Dear Rapture. With twenty pages left to go, she was almost finished, yet the hero still had to redeem himself after behaving badly. He’d left the heroine at a monastery with her sister, and although he was coming back—he had to come back for her—the heroine still believed all was lost.
Georgia could hear Grayson’s raspy voice in the words as she read them, but the story was too good to stop reading now. She was in too deep. She had to finish, no matter the cost. She had to know if Sebastian would return for his one true love. They were perfect for each other. How could he not see it?
If only true love were that easy to see in real life.
And why couldn’t men come with warning labels slapped on their foreheads? It’d be simple. Choose your sign: Prince Charming or Toad.
“Where’d we leave off?” Georgia slumped into the couch beside Hamlet and flipped through the pages. She’d earmarked so many good scenes. Places she’d gotten butterflies. Pages that had made her blush. Sexy scenes that had given her tingles. Now, as she skimmed through the book, all those scenes seemed dry. Fake and forced. “Here it is. The hero was acting like a jerk. A big, fat, blind, stupid jerk.”
Careful not to bend back the pages too far, Georgia scanned to find her place. “Here we go.” She rested a hand on Hamlet’s back. He grumbled and smacked his gums together. “Sebastian knocked on the monastery door, and—”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Georgia screamed, dropping the book to her lap. Hamlet barked, jumped off the couch, and charged toward the front door.
Jolting to her feet, Georgia peered through the window. Someone stood on the other side of the door, though the condensation was too thick to make out who it was. The person was over six feet tall. Definitely male with those broad shoulders.
Hamlet howled as fear crept into Georgia’s heart.
She may’ve been reading a romance novel—full of warm fuzzies and good intentions—but she’d recently finished a thriller. She knew better than to open the door to a stranger after dark.
“We’re closed,” she called out, clutching Dear Rapture to her chest. “Come back tomorrow at nine.”
“Georgia?”
The voice was achingly familiar.
Heart in her throat, Georgia turned the top lock. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.” Two beats. “Grayson.”
She froze, blood to bone.
What was he doing here?
“Can I talk to you for a second?” His voice was strained. Tense.
She unlocked the door, though she held it closed with her palm. “Shouldn’t you be halfway to Yosemite by now?”
If she kept the door between them, if she didn’t look him in the eye, she could be stronger. She could turn him away and save her dignity.
“I wanted to give you something first,” he said, “and then I’ll take off.”
Damn it.
She winced. “Can you pass it through the mail slot?”
“Georgia…” he pleaded.
Butterflies fluttered through her stomach. “Okay, okay.”
She pulled open the door, and the breath caught in her throat. Grayson stood on the sidewalk with snow on his shoulders and his gray peacoat buttoned up to his chin. His expression was solemn, his light eyes shadowed with doubt. He held a small rectangular box in his hands.
“You look radiant,” he said.
Don’t react. Don’t. React.
“Thanks.” Her heart clenched. “Did you come to pick up some reading material for your trip?” She lifted Dear Rapture and waved it around. “I’m about to finish—” The book slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor.
“Dang it!” She bent to grab it, but Grayson had the same idea.
He picked it up first and turned it around.
“Here,” she said, holding out her hand.
But Grayson didn’t hand it over. Instead, he opened the book wide and skimmed the page where it’d fallen open. The corner of that page had been bent.
It only took one glance at the blush flooding Grayson’s cheeks to know which part he was reading.
It’d fallen open to a sexy scene.
Just her luck.
“Is this one of your favorite parts?” he asked, the twinkle returning to his blue eyes.
Cue mortification. “Ah, the pages must’ve bent when I put the book in my bag.”
“That’s too bad.” As Grayson grinned, he handed the book back. “Listen, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, since I know you have a date coming up later tonight, but I—”
“I don’t have a date.”
“You don’t?” His brows puzzled as he searched her face. “Are you sure?”
“If you’re talking about Rusty MacDermott, we’re just friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, and all we’ll ever be.”
He exhaled heavily as the wind picked up, gusting through the empty street. “But if he bid on your box, don’t you have to go out with him?”
“I don’t have to do anything.” She set Dear Rapture on shelves beside the door. “April called earlier. Since I’d asked her to remove my box for me, she wanted to make sure she was doing the right thing by letting him bid on it.”
“And…” He stepped into the store, his blue eyes blazing.
She backed away as her body bloomed with warmth. He followed her inside, closing the door behind him. In the silence, her heartbeat thumped in her ears.
“I told April I wasn’t interested.” She fought to catch her breath, but bei
ng close to Grayson this way made it an impossible feat. “I’m going to focus on myself for a while, finish my book, and maybe renovate my store.”
That’d keep her mind occupied for at least a year.
No more fantasies of heroes sweeping her off her feet and whisking her off into the sunset. From here on out, only healthy fantasies would consume her thoughts.
“I think that’s a great plan.” Grayson leaned down to give Hamlet a scratch. “I brought something for you.”
“For me?” Georgia said.
“I was talking to Hamlet.” He looked up at her and grinned. “But I brought something for you, too.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bag of bones. Hamlet’s tail drummed against the floor. Slobber dripped from his gums. He sat at Grayson’s feet, gazing up at him in total adoration.
Traitor.
After Grayson handed Hamlet a bone, Georgia watched her pup carry it to the couch to gnaw on it. When she brought her gaze around to Grayson’s again, he’d closed the distance between them.
She sucked in a hissed breath through her teeth.
“Here,” he said, handing her the box in his hands. “This box is for you.”
“Why?” she asked, steeling herself against his womanizing charm. “What’s it for?”
“You made a box earlier…I guess this is my version.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You don’t have to open it now. In fact, I’d prefer you wait until I’m long gone. The thing is, I woke up this morning feeling…moved. That’s the only way I can explain it. Something shifted after our kiss last night, and I can hardly put the feeling into words.”
She stared, shock rendering her frozen.
“I wrote a new beginning for the next book in the series, Dear Eternity. It’s good, Georgia. Probably the best I’ve ever written.”
“That’s great! I’m happy for you, Grayson.”
She really was. No matter what had happened between them—spark or no spark—he was still a wonderful author and a total catch for the woman who finally convinced him to ditch his playboy ways.
“I should thank you,” he said.
“Me?”
“You’ve inspired me in more ways than I can say.” He planted a kiss on her cheek. “With all my heart, I hope you find the hero you’re searching for.”
Lucky 7 Brazen Bachelors Contemporary Romance Boxed Set Page 49
