Georgie's Heart (14 page)

“Somehow, I can't imagine you ever doing such a thing, Georgie,” Zane said. “You're much too honest, for one thing. For another, you have such a passionate nature.”

Georgeanne gulped and spoke a thought that was new to her. “I think the degree of passion in a relationship depends on the man a woman is with.”

The realization stunned Georgeanne. She had been married to the wrong man, and she hadn't even realized it. She had thought all the problems in her marriage were her fault. She had thought a woman was supposed to feel sexual enjoyment the way a man did. A few minutes lying in the grass with Zane Bryant had showed her that, for her at least, sexual enjoyment was based on something more than the promise of simple physical release.

Her head whirled. She'd have to think this one out. Could it be that all the clichés about meeting “Mr. Right” weren't clichés at all, but a basic truth?

Zane stretched out one big hand across the table toward her. “Georgie, that's the second nicest thing any woman has ever said to me.”

Stunned, Georgeanne looked blankly at him a moment before placing her hand in his. If Zane Bryant was her own Mr. Right, then she was in very, very deep trouble.

*

Georgeanne's tentative, unmentioned-even-to-herself hope that Zane would kiss her the way he had earlier came to naught. By the time he drove her home and sat down on her comfortable sofa for a cup of coffee, Zane's answering service rang his cell phone with an urgent message.

Zane answered the call, then kissed Georgeanne hurriedly and left. One of his young patients had landed in the hospital emergency ward, and was hysterically demanding Zane rather than any other doctor. Because Zane was the type of man he was, he left at once rather than insist that the child submit to another physician.

Georgeanne registered that, even as she admitted to herself that she felt relieved to have the matter taken out of her hands for the night.

She ignored the swelling disappointment in her heart. Making love with Zane just to test her new thoughts on sexual pleasure would be a big mistake on her part. She wasn't a woman who could indulge unscathed in affairs. If she made love with a man, it meant she planned on marrying him.

That naturally led Georgeanne to ask herself why she had let Zane touch her so intimately that afternoon. Never in her life had she known such desire to feel a man's hands on her bare skin. Why had it happened like that with Zane so soon after she'd met him, and never with her husband during two years of marriage?

Georgeanne shied away from answering her own question. The only answer that came to her was too shattering to contemplate. Instead, she decided that there was something basically unfair about the whole idea of a Mr. Right.

She went to bed in the middle of an argument with herself, but the only conclusion she reached was that the concept of a Mr. Right had nothing to do with a man's looks. Tony Rollins was movie-star handsome. She had thought him incredibly good-looking, but she hadn't wanted him to touch her intimately. In fact, most of his attraction for her had lain in the fact that her aunt was so thrilled at his preference for Georgeanne.

Georgeanne lay in bed staring out the moonlit window as she tried to work through the morass of her own thoughts. Outside, the leaves of the redbud tree formed dark silhouettes against the paler night sky, and Georgeanne fancied she saw Zane's profile among them. That led to remembering how his lips had felt on her breasts, and the way his long, thick lashes had brushed her neck.

The telephone rang, and Georgeanne fairly pounced on the extension beside her bed. Anything to keep from thinking.

“No, Denise, I haven't finished reading it yet,” she said.

“Didn't you at least read the foreword?” Zane Bryant asked, sounding amused.

“Zane?” Surprise suspended her voice for a moment.

“Definitely, I'm buying a copy of that book,” Zane said. “If Denise is so determined for you to read it, she's taken to calling you at midnight … ”

“Well, she does seem rather determined that I get busy on it right away. She's already called me twice tonight.” She collected her thoughts. “How was the little boy?”

“He's going to be fine,” Zane said. “It was a case of asthma brought on by a rough afternoon session with the family dog. A day in the hospital and he'll be fine.”

“I hope you aren't going to tell the family to get rid of the family dog.” Georgeanne lay back against her pillow.

“I wouldn't dream of it, although I did tell his mother to stop smoking in the house. Georgie, I'm sorry I had to leave so suddenly. This isn't the way I planned the weekend.”

She chuckled. “I've been working for doctors for the past two years. Believe me, I know how these things operate. A doctor's time is not his own, even when he isn't on call.”

“Most women aren't as understanding as you are.” Zane sighed. “I'm on call next weekend. I'll have to miss the dedication ceremony.”

Georgeanne suppressed a sigh of her own. “That's too bad. You'll miss Dr. Baghri's speech, the one I spent all day Friday typing.”

Zane laughed. “The one you wrote, you mean.”

They talked a while longer about Zane's work and her own. Georgeanne hung up with a lighter heart. Zane was interested in her. No man called a woman at midnight just to talk unless he wanted to see her again.

Her heart plummeted. If Zane found out who Fritzi Field really was …

Why should he, her mind argued. Alice wouldn't betray her. Surely the public wasn't interested enough in a lone pop psychologist's view of sex and marriage to send out investigative reporters in search of the real Fritzi Field. The book simply wasn't that important. Soon, it would fade from public interest.

But not right away, she discovered. Monday morning. Denise was lying in wait for her when Georgeanne arrived at the Gant Clinic.

“Did you finish reading it?”

Georgeanne had spent a few moments that morning reviewing
Faking It
and thought she had worked out a strategy. “Yes, I read it. It was a fast read, however, so don't count too much on my opinion.”

“I understand.” Denise grabbed Georgeanne's arm. “You can formulate your professional opinion later. Just step right this way and tell me all about your off-the-cuff opinion.”

Georgeanne obligingly let herself be herded into Dr. Gant's office. “Believe it or not, my opinion won't take too terribly long to deliver.” She plucked the book from her canvas briefcase, relieved to be rid of it, and handed it to Denise, who received it with a reverence that made its author distinctly uncomfortable. “Let's lend this copy to Sandra.”

“I'll give it to her in a few minutes. Now all I want is your true, unvarnished opinion of what the woman says.” Denise shut the office door. “Talk, Georgie.”

“Well, the first thing that impressed me was how bitter she sounds,” Georgeanne said.

It had been a shock to reread parts of
Faking It
. Georgeanne reflected that if she'd put the manuscript aside a few weeks and then reread it before querying agents, she'd probably have given the book the deep-six treatment. She regarded the tome in Denise's arms with something akin to loathing.

“Well, I, for one, couldn't blame her.” Denise perched on the edge of Dr. Gant's desk and regarded Georgeanne with intensity. “The fact is, she would never have written this book if she hadn't been bitter, and if she hadn't had the strength and intelligence to look back and see her own mistakes. Now go on, Georgie.”

Nonplussed, Georgeanne sought for words. “You certainly don't want to base any of your own actions on a book based on bitterness and anger without thinking it over carefully.”

“I don't think the things Fritzi advocates in her book are necessarily based on bitterness or anger,” Denise countered. “My feeling was that she sort of went off and licked her wounds when her marriage ended, and this was what occurred to her.”

Georgeanne gulped. Denise had no idea how accurate that statement was.

“She believes that if she'd had this knowledge during her marriage, she'd still be married,” Denise continued.

“The question is, would that be what she really wants today?” Georgeanne asked quietly. “Now that her marriage is over, Fritzi is free to find a man who does make her heart beat faster, and whose lovemaking would cause her to feel all those things she wasn't feeling during her marriage.”

Georgeanne had a strange feeling that she was not the person saying these words. They poured out of her, and she felt as if she was listening to the thoughts for the first time.

When she heard her own words, she knew this was the realization she'd been waiting for, the key idea that an entire new way of thinking would be based upon. Zane Bryant had been the catalyst that crystallized the idea — for every woman there existed a man whose touch could make her forget the world around her.

Or maybe he was the creator of the entire idea, Georgeanne thought wryly. Such an idea had never crossed her mind before without being followed immediately by the thought that such a man obviously didn't exist for her. She had gotten to where she had refused to even entertain such a thought any longer.

“That may not be possible,” Denise said, in such positive tones, Georgeanne had a peculiar sense of
deja vu
. “What if you're a person who just doesn't … feel all that stuff during sex that everyone else is claiming they feel?”

Georgeanne took a moment to answer. It was a surprise to learn that Denise, of all people, had felt exactly as she had felt when her marriage ended — that something was wrong with her.

Denise went on, “Don't you remember how hard you and I laughed over the way women these days are so careful to make sure everyone knows they have no trouble reaching orgasm? Well, when I read a passage about that very phenomenon in Fritzi's book, I knew I had found another kindred spirit. You have no idea what this book has meant to me.” She clutched the book against her starched white cotton-covered breasts.

Georgeanne winced. “Denise, believe me when I say you just haven't met the right man yet. As beautiful as you are — ”

Denise's face took on a sardonic expression. “Now, Georgie, you sound just like my mama.”

Georgeanne laughed. “This is between you and me. When my divorce became final, I felt exactly the way you feel right now. Sex was one of the biggest problems my husband and I had. It wasn't the only problem, but it seemed to me to be the biggest. Anyway, if I'd read Fritzi Field's book before my divorce, I might have made a terrible mistake. What if I'd put into practice the ideas she gives, and kept my marriage alive?”

Denise tilted her head to the side and studied her friend. “Do you know, I've always suspected your marriage ended for the same reason mine did. You always looked so peculiar every time we spoke of Fritzi Field's book, I knew there was something behind it.”

“Can you blame me?” Georgeanne moved toward the door. “But this past week, I've met someone who — who — ”

She couldn't go on, since she didn't know how to tell Denise that Zane Bryant made her feel the way Tony Rollins never had.

“Who makes you feel all warm and womanly?” Denise knew anyway.

“That's right.” Georgeanne let her breath out. “I realized last night that I should never have married Tony. I never felt about him the way I now know I should have before I married him. His kisses left me cold. There's no other way to say it.”

Denise studied her face. “Georgie, that's all very well when there aren't any children involved. It's easy to just pull up stakes and move on.”

“You don't have any children.” Georgeanne knew what was coming, but that didn't stop her from trying to head it off.

“What if I had? Children are damaged by divorce,” Denise announced. “No one wants to admit it, including all the psychologists who have been advising everyone to please themselves and to heck with self-sacrifice.”

“We're talking about you and me. Neither of us has any children that need to be considered.”

“Well, Fritzi Field considered the children. I'm telling you, Georgie, that woman knows the score and she doesn't mind laying it on you. I agree with her. If a pretense of sexual enjoyment is all it takes to keep a husband and wife together long enough to get the kids raised, then whose business is it?”

Georgeanne tried for dignity as she edged once more toward the door. “If children are involved, and lack of sexual enjoyment is the chief impediment to a happy marriage, then maybe Fritzi Field is right. Maybe saving the marriage in a case like that would be worthwhile. But — ”

“Come on, Georgie.” Denise tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the book. “Look at what it's like out there now for a single woman. What with all the possible diseases, I'm scared to death to kiss a man, and that's assuming I can find one who's worth kissing. Now don't you think it would be better to hold onto your husband rather than try to find another man these days?”

“What would life be without something to strive for and to look forward to?” A purely female smile curved Georgeanne's lips as she opened the office door. “Especially when you consider the delights in store for you if you happen to find your Mr. Right.”

Georgeanne peeked into the examining room of the newly operational Saturday Children's Clinic and experienced a peculiar fluttering of her heart. Perhaps she was developing an arrhythmia. She saw no other reasonable explanation why a woman her age would suddenly be experiencing such agitation in her chest.

The weird behavior of her heart had nothing to do with the fact that Dr. Zane Bryant was bending over a boy who huddled timidly on the examining table. Absolutely not. After all, she'd spent the last two years since her divorce watching doctors bend over children. There was nothing unusual about the sight.