Despite his condition, interest seemed to instantly pique on Amos’s face. “She is single, your mother?” he asked. Georges thought of the man currently squiring his mother around. Kyle somethingor-other. A would-be artist some twenty-five years younger than Lily. She claimed being with Kyle made her feel like a schoolgirl again. He’d always believed in live and let live, but he had to admit that he and his brothers were not happy about this one. His mother had brought him around several times, secretly, he was certain, seeking their approval.
But much as he didn’t like the way she was running her life lately, it was her life and he had no right to interfere. “Not at the moment.” Amos has a keen ear. He dispensed advice along with his baked goods at his store every day. “Oh? It does not sound as if you approve of this person in your mother’s life.”
Georges shrugged casually, as if he really didn’t have a hard-and-fast opinion on the matter. “She’s done better.”
“His mother is Lily Moreau,”Vienna interjected for her grandfather’s benefit.
“Lily Moreau?” Complete surprise and then keen interest washed across AmosSchwarzwalden’s still very pale complexion. “The famous artist?”
“One and the same,” Georges replied with a weariness that caught him off guard. He hadn’t meant to sound like that when admitting to their connection. Try as he might, Georges couldn’t remember a single time when someone didn’t instantly know who his mother was when her name came up in the conversation. Most of the time, he was proud of her, proud of her work and even of her Bohemian bravado. But lately, he found himself wishing she would settle down again. Just not with someone young enough to be her son.
“You must bring her to the shop,” Amos told him with enthusiasm, then added with a resigned note, “Once you let me go back to it.” He wasn’t about to fall for that sorrowful face, Georges thought. He had a feeling Amos could get people to do what he wanted. He was one of those endearing people you hated saying no to.
“That all depends on you, Mr.—ah, Amos,” Georges stopped, correcting himself. And then, because the man’s attitude seemed so positive, he gave him something to be positive about. He gave him the good news. “But if you keep going the way you are, I don’t see any reason why we won’t be discharging you in a few days.”
“A few days?” Amos echoed. Rather than be happy, the old man seemed somewhat disheartened. “I was hoping to be released in a few hours.” “You had a lot of internal injuries, Amos. Ruptured spleen, bruised liver, cracked ribs.” He didn’t bother mentioning the heart attack. He didn’t want the man to feel overwhelmed. It was enough that they all knew one had happened. “You need time to heal. We just want to make sure everything’s mending properly before we set you loose again.” Removing the stethoscope from around his neck, he put it in his deep pocket. “Why don’t you take this opportunity to rest. According to what your granddaughter says, you haven’t had a vacation in years.”
Amos laughed under his breath. “No disrespect, Doctor, but this is not exactly a place I would choose to have my vacation.” Neither would he, Georges thought. “Luck of the draw, Amos, luck of the draw.” Closing the chart, he hung it off the foot of the bed again. “I’ll stop by later to look in on you again,” he promised.
Amos nodded, looking less than happy about the scenario. “Unfortunately, I will be here.”
“You’d better believe it,”Vienna told her grandfather with feeling.
“I raised her to be tough,” Amos confided to Georges. And then he frowned as he looked atVienna again. “Perhaps that was not such a good move.” Georges couldn’t help the admiring grin that rose to his lips as he eyed the man’s granddaughter one last time. The wordknockout ran through his mind. “It was from where I’m standing.”
“I like him,” Amos toldVienna the moment the door was closed again and Georges had left.
Absently,Vienna agreed. “So do I.”
Despite his condition, Amos was instantly alert. “Oh?”
She could read him like a book, an old, beloved, well-read book. “Get that look out of your eye, Grandpa. I meant as a doctor.” The smile on his lips was positively mischievous. “I didn’t.” He gave her a long, penetrating look. “It is about time you forgot all about that Edward person. He was not worthy of you.”
He’d get no argument from her, not after the final scene between them. She didn’t do well with ultimatums, and Edward had made it clear that she had to choose—her grandfather or him. It wasn’t a fair contest. Edward hadn’t even come close— because her grandfather would have never asked her to choose between them.
“You’re right, he wasn’t. But I’m not looking to replace him right now.” She took her grandfather’s hand in hers. “All I want right now is for you to get better.” Her eyes misted as she said, “I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you.”
“You would continue,Vienna . You are strong. Like your mother was, and her mother before her.” It was a source of pride within the family that the women on the family tree were made of unbendable mettle. “But,” he went on to allow, “it does not hurt to have someone in your life who is looking out for you.”
How had they circled back to this? “Stop right there,”Vienna warned him. “If that someone isn’t you, I don’t want to talk about it.”
He sighed, resigned. For now. “Very well. Tell me about the shop.”
His mistress,Vienna thought fondly. Her grandfather loved the shop the way few men loved their wives. “The customers all want to know where you are.” The questions about what had happened had come so steadily from his crowd of regulars that she’s stopped to print up a short, detailed account of the accident and posted it on the outside door. All it had done was generate more questions. Which was why it had taken her so long to get here.
“They all send their good wishes for a speedy recovery.” Amos smiled, pleased. “That is nice.” And then he looked at her intently, sobering. “You are sure that you are all right? That you were not hurt?”
“I’m sure. Georges insisted on checking me out last night.”
He nodded knowingly. “And this checking out, it was nice for you?”
Viennalaughed and shook her head. “As a doctor, Grandpa, he checked me out as a doctor.” “I saw the way he looked at you when he was here. Not just as a doctor,Vienna , but as a man. Men know these things,” he informed her solemnly. “And this I can tell you, he is a nice man, to risk his life for strangers.”
Not that she was playing devil’s advocate, but she really didn’t want her grandfather making something out of nothing. “He’s a doctor, Grandpa. He’s supposed to help people.”
“In the hospital or his office, yes,” he agreed. “Burning cars are another story.” And then, before she could say anything to counter him, Amos sighed. He seemed to fade into the bed. “I am tired right now,Vienna . Maybe I should rest, like he said.”
“Maybe,” she agreed fondly.
Her grandfather was asleep before the second syllable had faded away.
Chapter Eight
“You’rea big hit with the nurses,” Georges toldVienna when she walked out of her grandfather’s room a few minutes later. He’d purposely hung around the area, taking his time finishing up a chart just in case she ventured out of the room. But she was holding her purse, which meant she was leaving. That surprised him. After the way she’d kept vigil at her grandfather’s side last night and early this morning, he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. He wondered where she was going. And when he would see her again.
Viennaeyed him quizzically and he realized that he had gotten ahead of himself again. It was a habit he’d picked up from his mother. His mind was always moving, juggling a hundred thoughts at once. Sometimes, when he spoke, it was in the middle of a thought. He backtracked now.
“The pastries you brought,” he explained. The box he nodded at was completely empty. “I believe the consensus was that they were ‘to die for.’” “Oh.” She glanced down at the empty box. Be
cause neatness was ingrained in her, she picked it up and flattened out the sides, then dropped it into the wastebasket she saw by the side of the desk. “I thought you’d take them home and eat them yourself.” If she’d known that he was going to pass them around, she would have brought more.
“That’s just the trouble, I would have.” He patted his middle, which was flat by design, not through an accident of nature. “And then I’d have to buy a whole new wardrobe.”
“No, you wouldn’t. That’s my grandfather’s secret.” Other ingredients were substituted for the more fattening ones, drastically reducing the caloric composition of the pastries he prepared. “His pastries aren’t as fattening as you think they are.”
She began to move toward the elevators and he fell into step with her. “Eating twelve of anything at one sitting is fattening,” he assured her. “You’re leaving already?”
Glancing at her watch out of habit, she nodded. “Have to.” Losing her purse in the fire had created a lot of time-consuming, annoying problems for her. She’d had to call and order replacements for her credit cards. But that wasn’t the worst of it. “I can’t rent a car until I can show the rental agency my driver’s license, and I don’t have a driver’s license to show them until I can get it replaced. Which means—” she sighed “—I have to go and wait in some endless line at the DMV. Meanwhile, I’m stuck calling cab companies.” Reaching the elevators, she pressed the Down button.
Georges suddenly thought of a way out for her. “Do you have a cab waiting for you in the parking lot?” he asked.
Viennashook her head. She was going to call one when she got to the lobby. “Not yet.”
The elevator arrived, but he drew her aside. “Why don’t you hang on a second?”
She followed him gamely over to the side of the corridor. “What do you have in mind?” His smile told her that maybe she’d just asked a loaded question. Banking down the first response that rose to his lips, he went with a far safer one as he took out his cell phone from the depths of his pocket. “I might be able to pull a few strings to keep you from having to wait in that endless DMV line.”
The thought ofnot having to spend the next two hours shifting from side to side and occasionally moving forward on a spiraling DMV line sounded like heaven. “You know someone?”
“Technically, my cousin Remy knows someone.” Georges flashed her a reassuring smile as he pressed a number on his keypad and then placed the phone to his ear. “But I know my cousin Remy, so, by association, yes, I know someone.”
“But will he—” She didn’t get a chance to complete her question. His cousin had obviously come on the other end. Georges had raised his hand, indicating that she should refrain from
saying anything further. Five minutes later, after asking her a few questions and passing the answers to his cousin, giving the man all the necessary information, it was settled. Remy had assured him that a copy of Vienna Hollenbeck’s original driver’s license would bemessengered to her house by late afternoon.
When he told her,Vienna thought it was nothing short of a miracle. But then, she was beginning to think Georges Armand was in the business of miracles. “I didn’t think you could do that.”
He winked, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “There are ways around a great many things if you just take the trouble to find the right path.” Her grandfather had taught her to be a dreamer, but there was a practical bent to her, as well. Whenever possible, she tried to be prepared for all contingencies. “But what if his friend finds he can’t get a copy of my license?”
Georges glanced down at the pocket where he’d deposited his cell phone. “If that rings in the next few minutes, then Remy’s friend hit a snag. If it doesn’t, you’re home free.”
She eyed his pocket, then raised her eyes to his face. “I must say, you certainly are a handy man to have around.” When she looked at him like that, he could feel the very breath stopping in his lungs. He’d never had anyone look at him quite like that before. It took him a second to get his wits back about him.
“I have my moments.”
Now there was an understatement, she thought. How was she ever going to pay this man back? Crossing back to the elevators, she pressed the Down button again.
“I just keep slipping deeper and deeper into your debt.”
He moved so that she could look at him. “Have dinner with me and we’ll call it even.”
Dinner. That wouldn’t make them even by a long shot. But it would open a door she wasn’t sure if she wanted to open. “Dr. Armand, Dr. Schulman is looking for you,” a nurse called out to him as she came down the corridor from the nurses’ station. “He was just called down to the E.R. and he wants you there to evaluate a patient.”
Georges knew better than to stall, even for a moment. Blair was a teaching hospital, and he was still a student. If he wanted to do well here, he couldn’t afford to get on the wrong side of the surgeon.
“Thank you.” The elevator arrived just then. “I’ll ride down with you,” he said toVienna .
But to his surprise, she stepped back. “I forgot something in my grandfather’s room.”
The doors began to close. “Dinner?” he pressed, placing his hand between the doors to keep them from shutting before he got his answer.
But she was already hurrying down the corridor back to her grandfather’s room. “I’ll get back to you,” she promised, throwing the words over her shoulder. The next moment, the elevator doors closed and he was gone.Vienna stopped. Watching the doors for a second, she retraced her steps back to the elevator bank. She let out a long, ragged breath as she pressed the Down button for the third time.
There was no denying that she would have loved nothing more than to say yes to the doctor’s invitation. But that was just the problem. She would haveloved to. And that was dangerous. There was something about Dr. Georges Armand, something that pulled at her, something that, at the same time, warned her that if she said yes to his invitation, that if she met him outside the protective four walls of the hospital, she would wind up getting involved with him. Passionately.
The last thing she wanted right now was to get involved with someone, passionately or otherwise. Her grandfather needed her. And she needed to sort out her life, which still felt as if it were a shambles despite the structure she’d given it lately. She’d put her whole heart and soul into caring for the wrong man. Coming to that realization had shaken her up. It made her doubt her instincts, at least her instincts when it came to making any sound judgments about men.
There was no denying that the sight of Georges’ wicked smile made her heart flutter in double time, but acting on that might have some consequences attached to it. She had no room for serious heartache. For the time being, she just wanted to purge any and all memories of Edward and go on with her life. Slowly.
Something told her that if she went out with Georges, tempting though it was, things would proceed at a rate far from languid and slow. This was a lot better, she thought, stepping into the elevator. The nurse had interrupted them just in time, sparing her from having to turn Georges down. She didn’t want to hurt him; she just didn’t want to be hurt herself.
Arriving on the first floor,Vienna fished out the phone number of the taxicab company she’d copied down before leaving for the bakery this morning. Since Georges had rescued her from having to endure the DMV, she needed to get back to the bakery to make sure that Raul hadn’t let his temperament get the better of him. Raul and Zelda got into it over some trivial thing almost every day.
Love had to be in the air, she mused, walking over to a lone public phone. Georges made it a rule never to push. Pursue, yes, but never push. If he had to wear a woman down to get her to say yes, then it wasn’t worth it. God knew that practically from the day he was born, he’d all but had to beat women off with a stick and he never lacked for companionship. All he had to do was smile and there would be willing women beside him. It was just the way things were.
When
he was barely a teenager, Lily had laughed and said she was afraid that he might become a professional ladies’ man. But Philippe had kept after him, always making him mindful of his potential and the real need, since family and position were merely an accident of birth, for thehaves to give a little something back to thehave-nots .
But his philosophy notwithstanding, Georges caught himself wanting to push. Wanting to convinceVienna to have dinner with him. Because he had a feeling that once they broke bread together, other pleasing events would follow naturally.
And he wanted them to follow. Wanted to discover what the texture of her skin felt like beneath his fingertips. Wanted to explore all the different tastes and flavors that went into making up this particular woman.
It had been five days since he’d first met her. Four days since he’d suggested dinner. Their paths crossed regularly in her grandfather’s room, but she said nothing to indicate that she wanted to take him up on his offer. So he didn’t offer again.
But he wanted to. She’d infiltrated his mind, something that never happened. Oh, he thought about women, thought about them a great deal, but only when he wanted to. Their faces did not suddenly come, unbidden, materializing before his mind’s eye.
Hers did. He had no idea what to make of it. Or what to do. Georges frowned as he sat at the circular table at his older brother’s weekly card game, completely oblivious to the cards he was holding. His thoughts were drifting again. And they were drifting toward the blonde who hadn’t taken him up on his invitation.
What the hell did all this mean? “Fold,” he heard his cousinVinnieMirabeau , who sat opposite him, announce just as he dropped his cards facedown on the table.Vinnie pinned him with a knowing look. “You’re doing that on purpose, but I’m not falling for it.”
Roused, Georges eyed him curiously. He hadn’t a clue whatVinnie was going on about. “It?” “Making that face,” Remy chimed it, following suit and tossing his cards down. “Like you don’t like what you see. You don’t have a poker face, Georges. Everything you think is normally right there, but even you know better than to frown at your cards. So if you’re frowning, that means you’re trying to put one over on us because you’ve got one hell of a hand.”
[The Sons of Lily Moreau 02] - Taming the Playboy Page 8