Georgie's Heart (7 page)

“I see. So you volunteered to help out at the Society?”

Georgeanne chuckled. “Yes, I volunteered. Somehow, I ended up in a position of authority.”

“That's because you work on problems until you find a solution,” Zane said.

“Someone has to solve the problems.” Georgeanne figured Dr. Baghri had told him that. It was true enough. She had a knack for defining problems and doing what needed to be done about them, probably because she refused to give up.

“Your husband didn't like the time you were spending on volunteer activities?” he asked, in low tones.

Georgeanne looked away, realizing Dr. Baghri had probably told him a few other things. “No, he didn't. He thought … ” She swallowed painfully. “He thought he should come first. Which he did, of course, but I could never seem to explain that to him.”

“He resented anything that took your time?”

“I'm afraid so.” Georgeanne's dark, honest eyes met his. “Some of it was my own fault. I spent a lot of time trying to convince him of the importance of the work I was doing, and it made him unreasonable.”

“He was unreasonable to begin with,” Zane said in firm tones. “Didn't he have any community projects he was interested in?”

“He didn't believe in community service or volunteering.” Georgeanne disliked making the failure of her marriage look as though it was all her ex-husband's fault. “He grew so resentful of my activities, he accused me of using volunteer work to get out of the house and away from him.” She added in aching tones, “Toward the end, that became a lot truer than I like to admit.”

“Georgie, don't accuse yourself of destroying your marriage. It just isn't true.” Zane sounded convinced of that. “You're the kind of person who'd go out of her way just to make someone else feel good, and that includes your ex-husband.”

Georgeanne sighed. “I did my best to please him, but I just couldn't stop my work. Not after I had willingly taken on the responsibility.” She paused a moment, then went on in low tones. “I don't mean to make you think my volunteer work was the only problem we had. It wasn't. There were,” she hesitated, “other ways I didn't please him. I've often thought that if I'd been a better wife in those other ways, the volunteer work wouldn't have mattered.”

Zane frowned over this.

Georgeanne realized Dr. Baghri must have told him her ex-husband had left her for another woman, cleaning out their bank account and leaving Georgeanne with nothing but her house in the country. She had done well since her divorce, but Zane probably realized she still blamed herself for the failure of her marriage.

“Georgie, it wasn't your fault. Take it from me, if your husband had been a man, he'd have sat down with you and worked things out.” He smiled and shrugged. “My ex-wife was a rising corporate executive. She married me while I was still in medical school because she thought being a doctor's wife would further her career. What she hadn't counted on was the fact that I had no interest in the social aspects of being a doctor. When I went into pediatrics rather than cardiology, it was the end. She filed for divorce as soon as she realized the marriage wasn't performing as planned.”

Georgeanne, shocked, murmured something sympathetic. What did the social aspects of physicianhood matter when a woman was married to a man like Zane Bryant?

“I'm afraid I was a big disappointment to her.” Zane's voice carried no hint of remorse. “Instead of partying in my spare time, I volunteered at the county charity clinic and spent my weekends doctoring sick children. The truth is, we married for all the wrong reasons, and we soon found out we had little in common.”

“I'm sorry,” Georgeanne said, meaning it. “Actually, that's what Dr. Gant says about my husband and me. The only thing we had in common was the fact that — that he was taller than I was. Oh, dear, how silly that sounds.”

But it was the truth. Much as Georgeanne hated to admit it, Tony Rollins's chief attraction for her had been his size. For once, she'd met a man who made her feel small and fragile.

“Georgie.” Zane waited until her attention returned to him, then laced his fingers through hers. “I don't think it's silly at all. I married Roxanne because she made me feel unlike a geeky guy who spent all his time in science labs.”

She smiled back at him gratefully, then glanced down in a puzzled way at their locked hands. Zane Bryant might have spent all his time in science labs, but geeky? No way.

“If that's what it takes to get your attention, then I'm glad that I'm taller than you,” he said simply.

Zane noted that Georgeanne blinked at him as if she thought she wasn't hearing correctly, but she smiled naturally. “I'm glad you're tall, too. You can't think how tiresome it is to tower above most men.”

She didn't know, he decided. She had no idea how beautiful she was. That had to be why she wasn't picking up on his meaning. Her long curly lashes fluttered as she looked away.

“You can't think how wonderful it is to find a woman who won't make me feel I'm about to crush her or give her a stiff neck,” Zane countered. “You're the perfect height, Georgie. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Georgeanne looked at him in an uncertain way, then gave him a firm smile. “I won't. The best thing about being tall is that I'm well suited for things like painting and hauling ladders around.”

Zane laughed, realizing Georgeanne had long ago accepted the fact that she was constitutionally incapable of sitting back while a man did all the work. If there was work to be done, she probably felt insulted if she wasn't allowed to do her share.

“I'm looking forward to meeting your dogs,” he said. “They aren't the kind that chew up any male encroaching on their territory, are they?”

She still didn't take his interest in her personally. Or she refused to. Well, he'd just see about that.

“Basically, they only want to be loved.” Georgeanne's face bore a puzzled expression, as if she couldn't imagine why he might want to visit her home. “I only have two dogs now. I've managed to find good homes for the others.”

Two cheese enchilada dinners arrived, and Georgeanne looked thankful to have something other than his face to concentrate on. Before he could drag her attention back to him, someone interrupted.

“Excuse me.” A teenage girl stood beside their table, gazing reverently at Zane. “May I please have your autograph?”

Zane glanced up and smiled. “I'm not Hunter Howell, you know.”

The girl gave a deep sigh and held out her book anyway. “You're not?”

“I'm not.” Zane signed his name in a thick, dark scrawl across a blank sheet of notebook paper. “I'm just a doctor. Not a very exciting person at all.”

The girl accepted the notebook, studied the signature, and went back to her parents' table with a posture eloquent of disappointment.

“You have the signature of a true doctor,” Georgeanne said, with her deep rich chuckle. “I suppose that's why she believed you.”

Zane laughed. “You should know. You've been seeing it long enough. You're part of the reason why I decided to come see Dr. Baghri's clinic for myself. I wanted to get a look at the woman who wrote me so faithfully.”

“In that case, I hope you weren't disappointed.” She looked, as he had thought she might, totally astonished. “I'd hate to think my personal appearance put you off participating in Dr. Baghri's clinic.”

“Oh, I wasn't disappointed, Georgie. I wasn't disappointed at all.” He smiled at her, a slow, hot smile that came straight from thoughts of how she would look without her clothes. “You were exactly what I hoped for, right down to the tips of those boots.”

Georgeanne appeared to stop breathing while she stared at him.

Zane looked back at her. Obviously, he had taken her by surprise, and whatever she expected from him, she had not expected an interest in her. He noted, with amusement, that she appeared to be searching her brain for an alternate meaning to his words.

“I'm glad,” she said at length. “Does it bother you to have so many people mistake you for your brother?”

Zane liked her quiet acceptance of his statement. Now was not the time to push her further, not when they were due at the new clinic site within an hour. “As a matter of fact, I had no idea Hunter Howell existed until I had people on the street ask me for my autograph after
Sunfire Down
made him a star. That's what led me to discover I had a brother.”

Georgeanne nodded sympathetically. “It must have been a real shock to see yourself on a movie screen.”

“It was.” Zane hadn't told anyone the entire story of discovering his brother, but found himself telling Georgeanne everything he'd done and felt. “Having a twin is the sort of thing every kid dreams about, but I never really expected to find one when I checked the adoption records.”

“You must have been very angry.” Georgeanne lowered her gaze to her plate. “It seems so unfair to separate identical twin brothers.”

“I was pretty angry at first,” Zane admitted. “Then I realized how lucky I'd been. Hunter was adopted by a couple who fell upon hard times. He'd been badly abused, while I had received every advantage, including a lot of love.”

Georgeanne's dark-brown eyes actually filled with tears. “What sort of man did he become?”

Zane wanted to touch her face and kiss away the tears. “He's surprisingly normal, considering.” He longed to cradle her head on his shoulder and tell her all the things he wasn't saying — all the emotions she seemed to be picking up from the ether. “You'll have to judge for yourself. Believe it or not, we've become close friends.”

“Why shouldn't you? It's my understanding that identical twins usually wind up in similar circumstances in spite of totally different upbringings.” She smiled suddenly. “In fact, I'd be willing to bet a reasonable sum on the assumption that he's into hands-on volunteer work himself.”

Zane's gray eyes widened. “How did you know?” He should have realized Georgeanne Hartfield had a sixth sense when it came to people and emotions. “Don't say anything, will you? Hunt would kill me if he thought I'd let out his dirty little secret.”

“That's right. Hunter Howell makes his living being a tough guy without a conscience, doesn't he?” Georgeanne laughed, a delicious ripple of sound that traveled through Zane like the vibrations of a stringed instrument. “I'll have to go see his latest movie and judge for myself what he's really like.”

“Fine. I'll pick you up tomorrow night at seven. The show starts at seven-thirty.”

Georgeanne's mouth dropped open, but she shut it again quickly. “Doctor, you're forgetting yourself. You're a member of my painting crew, and my painting crew does not see movies when there is painting to be done. I have been known to conduct hangings and public whippings over such infractions.”

“My deepest, most heartfelt apologies.” He grinned at her, fully aware that she had been shocked at the invitation. “It's just that I'd really like to know your impression of Hunter.” He added, “Seeing that you're such a good judge of people … ”

“I'm no better a judge than you, Doc — Zane.” She changed the subject, and he allowed it, for now. “Dr. Baghri says you're involved in quite a few volunteer efforts yourself.”

“When a man feels profoundly lucky in life, it's natural to want to give something back,” Zane said.

He questioned her about her training as a psychologist and her current choice of work then listened intently to what she had to say about her interest in children, the family home she'd inherited in the middle of the rice fields, and her instant need for a job after her divorce.

As he had hoped, she described a happy childhood — up until the day both her parents had died in a car wreck and she went to live with her father's brother. She glossed over that by asking Zane about his career in medicine.

Zane was conscious for once that the woman he was telling his life story to was really interested. He had never told anyone about the incident that led him into pediatrics, but he found himself telling Georgeanne.

“It was a case like the ones that inspired Dr. Baghri to open his Saturday Children's Clinic.” He wondered if he could drown in Georgeanne's velvety eyes. “A couple brought an unconscious little boy, who was in a deep diabetic coma, into the Emergency Room one night. When I finally got him stabilized and went out to lecture his parents about why they had waited so long to see a doctor, I discovered they were hard-working people with no insurance who couldn't afford regular doctor visits. I learned a lot that night about pride and compassion.”

“Those are the people Dr. Baghri wants to help.” Georgeanne's voice quivered with emotion. “They can afford the twenty dollars at the Saturday Clinic, and their pride isn't attacked.”

Zane nodded. He wondered if Georgeanne knew how beautiful she was when emotion animated her face. “The people who need help these days are those caught in the middle.”

“Are you still treating the boy?” Georgeanne asked.

“Of course.” Zane laughed at her expectant attitude. “I charge twenty dollars a visit, which covers a supply of insulin and syringes and his checkup.”

Georgeanne lowered her gaze to her plate, smiling.

“That's why I'll never be a particularly rich doctor. But you don't care about that, do you?” He stared at Georgeanne and wondered how she was going to react when he kissed her. Because he was going to, very soon now, and he was already looking forward to it tremendously.

Georgeanne laughed. “I'll never be a particularly rich secretary-receptionist, and for much the same reason.”

“According to Dr. Gant, you could have taken a much higher paying job last year with an advertising agency in Beaumont.” Zane wondered why Georgeanne's expressive face whitened suddenly. “Why didn't you?”