His Uptown Girl (17 page)

“H
ey! George!”

Georgette spun around, then tried to determine who in the crowded mall had called to her.

A man seated on one of the benches next to the planter stood, with a hot dog in one hand and a drink in the other. “What are you doing here?”

“Randy,” she said, sighing as she pressed one palm over her heart. “You startled me. I guess you're on your supper break.”

“Sorry,” he said and nodded as he bit into the hot dog and swallowed. “Is something wrong with Bob?”

“I assume he's fine. He traded days off with Bart, so I think he's at home. Why do you ask?”

“I've never seen you here shopping without him, that's all.”

Georgette smiled. She was shopping alone because she didn't want Bob to see her purchases. Not yet. “Actually, this isn't the kind of trip he would enjoy. I'm going to buy some girl stuff. You must know the mall well. Where would be a good place to buy a nice dress?
I don't want to spend too much money, but I want something nice.”

“There's a ladies' clothing boutique beside where I work. It must be good. There's always women going out with big bags in their hands. Try that one.”

“That's great. I'll do that.”

The first thing that caught Georgette's attention was a big sign stating Summer Clearance.

She headed straight for the sale rack of dresses.

A woman a few years older than her approached. “Can I help you?”

“I don't know. I want to wear something special for tonight, but I don't have a lot of money to spend.”

She hadn't originally even planned to go to the mall. She'd gone grocery shopping on the way home, and gone way over budget in order to cook Bob a very special meal. She'd already phoned him to invite him over, but how she would serve it would be a surprise. Her plan wouldn't work if she was wearing the same old jeans and T-shirt he saw her in every day. When their supper was in the oven, she'd gone to change into her beloved green dress. Her heart sank when she discovered a big rip in the bottom. She must have caught her heel in the hem when sliding out of her truck after the non-date with Tyler but in the dark outside, she hadn't seen the damage.

“The dress I wanted to wear has a hole in it, so now I have to buy something new. I'm kinda out of time.”

The woman smiled. “Then let's find something nice in your price range.”

Together they picked out a flattering style that was just on the edge of Georgette's meager budget, which meant her muffler and a few other repairs on her truck
would have to wait. Randy was walking into the electronics store next door just as she ran out. He looked down to the bag under her arm, winked and waved as she ran past him and headed back home.

She was just doing up the zipper when she heard a knock on the door. She yanked on a slip, stuffed her jeans and T-shirt into the armoire, ran her fingers through her hair to tidy it, and ran to the door.

Bob's eyes grew as big as saucers when he saw her. “Did I get the day mixed up? I thought you went out with Tyler yesterday.”

He took one step backward, but Georgette grabbed his arm to stop him. “I thought that if I can dress up for Tyler, I can certainly dress up for you.”

He looked again at the dress, which fitted her to perfection, even though the style wouldn't have been her first choice. It was a deep blue that went well with her eyes, though the top was too low. But she couldn't argue with the price. He cleared his throat, and wiped his palms on his jeans. “Okay… But then I'm really underdressed.”

“You're fine. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

He glanced to the table, where she'd set a red candle in the center, something Bob's mother had given her, which she thought gave everything a romantic touch.

“Uh… Yeah… I'm surprised.”

She led him to the table and sat him down. “I made you something special.”

He turned toward the stove expectantly even though everything she was cooking was back in the oven after her secret last-minute errand—except the salad of course. “Why?”

Because I love you,
she thought. “Because you deserve a special evening,” she said.

According to the clock, everything should be cooked, so she donned the oven mitts and bent over to take the food out of the oven.

When she turned around, Bob's eyes averted quickly to her face and his ears darkened, telling her that when she'd bent over, he'd been watching. If it had been anyone else, she would have smacked him. But since it was Bob, she smiled inwardly, knowing he appreciated the view. That was one of the reasons she'd worn the dress. She gently plated their meal and carried the plates to the table, then set the potato casserole on the trivet, and retrieved the salad from the fridge.

“Wow. Chicken cordon bleu. And this potato casserole is my favorite. How did you know?”

Actually, she'd asked his mother, who had e-mailed the recipe to her at work that afternoon. That extra work meant she'd had to buy the chicken cordon bleu at the supermarket, ready-made. Knowing her skills, though, that was probably for the best. “Let's just say it's my little secret.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Then say grace, so we can eat before it gets cold.”

He said what she thought might have been the world's shortest prayer of thanks, and dug in to the chicken.

Bob closed his eyes and sighed. “This is so good. You're a better cook than you think.”

She had to laugh at that. “Bob, you can still say that after the Great Stir-fry Fire? All right I'll admit it, I bought the chicken already made up.”

He savored another morsel and smiled. “Well, you did a fine job of heating it up without a microwave.”

She smiled at him, hoping her nervousness didn't
show. Who knew if her hair and makeup would withstand the heat of the small kitchen.

“I made dessert, too.” Even though it was just a mixture of pudding, gelatin and whipped cream, she'd still put it together herself.

His eyebrows raised. “I don't understand. Are you going to tell me something bad?” His fork froze halfway to his mouth. “You're not quitting, are you?” His face paled. “You were out with Tyler last night….”

“Yes, I was,” Georgette cut in finally. “I'm glad you convinced me to read that letter. It helped me come to a few decisions about my future.”

Bob's face paled further. He had a death grip on that poor fork.

She tipped her head and studied him. “Are you feeling okay? Was this a bad night?”

He lowered the fork and dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. “No, I'm fine. I skipped lunch. That must be it. What did you decide?”

“I decided that I was right all along. Tyler is a jerk, and events, as unpleasant as they were, did work out for the best. I also decided that it's about time I started dating.”

Bob's eyes flitted to the candle, then to her low-cut dress, and back to her face. “And tonight?”

“Tonight is for you.”

His confusion registered in his eyes. She'd been evasive on purpose, for fear of eliciting a decisive but negative response. Tonight, she needed to show him that she no longer wanted to be George. From now on, for Bob, she was going to be Georgette, and not just as an employee either. She wanted to be Mrs. Georgette Delanio.

“Okay…” he muttered, and resumed eating. “So
how was work today? Did that guy say anything about that 4X4?”

“It was more than he thought it would cost, but he seemed happy after I showed him what was wrong with the old oil pump. I explained how if we didn't replace it now, it would cost him double to have to take the engine apart in just a few months again.”

“And what about that old station wagon?

She hadn't intended to talk about work, but she couldn't not answer. Although, when the conversation drifted to his motorcycle and what he wanted to do with it, she forgot all about her previous conviction not to talk shop, and lost herself in the discussion of the restoration process.

They spent far more time at the table than she had intended, but then again she hadn't thought to plan beyond the meal. She couldn't even rent a movie, because she no longer had a DVD player. For now, buying one didn't fit into her budget.
Especially
not after buying the dress.

“Can I help with the dishes?”

She looked at the mess on the counter. It wasn't much, but the counter was so small that even a few utensils out of place made it look messy. She was dressed to go out, but her plan to make the evening a romantic event had already taken a dramatic nosedive from all the shop talk.

“Sure. You wash, and I'll dry.”

Bob nodded, rolled up his sleeves, and began rinsing the residue off the baking sheet while Georgette spooned the leftover casserole into a plastic container and put it into the fridge. When she turned around, Bob was already up to his elbows in the soapy water, softly humming a song they'd sung at the weekend retreat.

It was no wonder she loved him so much.

By the time the dishes were done, she could no longer hold herself back. She had to touch him. To hold him. To tell him she loved him.

She watched him wring out the dishrag, and just as he began to turn around, Georgette stepped in front of him, with very little distance between them. In order to prevent him from moving away, she rested her hands at the sides of his waist. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said, surprised at the rough timbre of her own voice.

He smiled down at her. “I think that's my line. You're the one who made supper. Which was great, by the way. Thank you.”

“Isn't the way to a man's heart through his stomach?” With that thought in mind, she raised one hand and pressed her palm over his heart. The steady rhythm thumping against her hand was strangely comforting.

He pressed one hand over hers. As he did so, the speed of his heartbeat increased just a little. “George, I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked as she covered his hand with her remaining one.

In a flash, his other hand covered hers, completing the connection. “It just isn't.”

She leaned into him, tipping up her chin, making it easy for him to kiss her if he wanted to, because she sure wanted to kiss him. “Then what would be the way to your heart?”

“I…uh…”

Everything she'd learned about how to attract a man flew out the window. She didn't want to play coy or cunning, but she didn't care how it happened, as long as it happened.

She raised herself up on her tiptoes, leaning into him so much she could feel his knuckles digging into her chest and stomach. “Kiss me, Bob,” she whispered huskily, her mouth only inches from his.

Time stood still, and just as she began to wish the earth would open and swallow her up, Bob's lips touched hers. It was nothing like the first time. This time, he kissed her as if he couldn't stop.

So, of course, she kissed him right back.

He pulled his hands out from between them, and held her tight as he kissed her again and again until she was breathless and her heart was pounding so hard she knew he had to feel it, because she could certainly feel his heart pounding beneath her palms, which were still trapped between them.

He lifted his mouth from hers, muttered her name, buried his face in her hair then hugged her even closer.

Georgette's heart soared as she pressed her cheek into his chest. A kiss like this could only mean one thing. Confirmation.

“This won't work, you know,” he said softly.

She stiffened from head to toe. She couldn't believe he would say such a thing when she was still enclosed in his embrace. “What do you mean?”

“For now, we're both charged. This thing, whatever it is, is new and exciting. But as time goes on, that novelty will wear off and you'll start to feel trapped. I can't offer you what you've left behind. Not even close. You're better off on your own. You should find a man who can treat you the way you'd like to be treated, and then you can live the way you want to live. I've seen it before. It's one thing to marry into money. It's quite another to marry out of it. I don't want you to come to hate
me. When I get married, it's going to be for life, just as God dictates.”

“You're wrong. I'm finished with that kind of life. Money isn't where true happiness is. It can't even promise stability if there's too much worry about losing it. It can be evil.”

“It's not wrong to be rich, George. People get it wrong all the time, but God doesn't say that money is the root of all evil. He says it's the
love
of money that's the root of all evil. It's very different. But the bottom line is that you don't belong here. I won't keep you. It's not right, and I really don't believe you would be happy being stuck here for the next fifty years. I'm a mechanic, and that's all I'll ever be. And I'm okay with that. But you were made for better things.”

“But I…” she let her voice trail off. She nearly said she loved him, but she didn't want to beg him to take her, when he was pushing her away.

He released her and stepped back. Ice pervaded her soul.

“I have to go. We rescheduled worship team practice for tonight, and even though Adrian and Celeste won't be there on Sunday, we're still practicing at his house.”

“They won't be there?” she echoed weakly.

“They're getting married this weekend, remember? The rehearsal is Thursday night, Friday we have a bunch of setup and other wedding-type stuff to do, and then the wedding is on Saturday. I'll be really busy, so it would be better if you went by yourself, because then at least you can come and go with the rest of the guests.”

“Oh, uh, I guess.”

He backed up another step. “So I'll see you around, or something.”

The door opened and closed before she had a chance to respond.