The Millionaire Takes A Bride. Kate Little

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СКАЧАТЬ did it matter? she finally decided. It had been a fluke. An aberration. It wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t allow it. He was a totally condescending snob, anyway. How could she ever be attracted to a man like him?

      “Can I help in some way? Set the table perhaps?” he offered politely.

      “Thanks, would you? The plates are in that cupboard and the silverware in this drawer,” she directed him. “Why don’t you turn on the radio so we can hear the weather report?” she added.

      The lively chatter of a local morning radio show helped ease the tension in the room, Georgia thought. But the news was not good. “And the record rainfall is expected to continue throughout the day, folks, with flooding reported on Route 6, west and north of town, and most of the side roads washed out. In other words it’s a great day to stay indoors if you can. Unless you’re a duck,” there was a loud quacking sound accompanied by the announcer’s chuckle. “And if you do go out today, don’t forget those hip waders. We’ve got mud out there up to our dang eyebrows, don’t we, Wally?” he asked his partner.

      “Up to the old…wazoo, buddy boy,” Wally rejoined. There was a funny, twanging noise—a mouth harp, probably—that made Georgia smile. “Look for a break in the clouds sometime tomorrow afternoon, friends.”

      “Can’t they just give a blasted forecast, without the comedy?” Jackson scowled, his expression darkening. “I don’t suppose the rental car company can even get a tow truck out here in this weather, much less a replacement car.”

      Georgia glanced over at him as she set a platter of golden pancakes on the table. “I’d doubt it.”

      From the looks of things, she was going to be up to her old wazoo with Jackson Bradshaw for the rest of the day, short of some miraculous break in the weather. The twist of his fine lips told her he was thinking the same.

      “Blueberry pancakes! Cool! And it’s not even Sunday!” Noah’s chipper voice broke the heavy silence as he raced into the kitchen and headed for the table. But suddenly noticing the stranger in the room, his sneakered feet skidded to a halt near his mother.

      “Noah, this is the man I told you about, the one that got stuck on the road last night. His name is Jackson.”

      Georgia carefully omitted adding Jackson’s last name. Noah was so bright, he’d surely make the connection between Will—who he’d recently started addressing as Uncle Will—and his older brother. One slip from Noah, and her charade would be blown. Could she possibly keep this farce afloat until the rain let up?

      “How do you do?” Jackson said politely. “You must be Noah.” He held his hand out to Noah, and they shook in a manly fashion.

      “How d’ ya do,” Noah echoed, puffing himself up to his full height.

      During encounters like this one she was always amazed to see how much her boy had matured. He’d always been a good kid, never causing her much trouble. But it was clear to her lately that his baby days were well and truly over. At times like this he seemed to be a little man. His eyeglasses which he’d needed since age four—with their owlish, tortoise-shell frames—also added to the impression. His remarkable intelligence made him seem older than most children his age.

      Teachers had told her that Noah was more than simply intelligent, he was actually gifted. He’d skipped second grade and might skip fourth, too. But he was still a bit bored with school. Unfortunately, there weren’t any special programs in their small public school system for gifted children, and Georgia couldn’t afford a private school.

      She hoped that later, when Noah was older, she could somehow provide the type of educational environment that would challenge and nurture his intellectual potential. But for now she did what she could by buying him books, educational toys and encouraging his varied interests. This summer he was going to spend two weeks at a special science camp, and she had nearly saved enough to buy him a computer for Christmas. Will was going to help her choose something suitable. While Faith and Will were visiting, Noah and Will had struck up a great rapport. Noah was fascinated with stories of Will’s scientific research, and Georgia thought her son’s new uncle was going to be a wonderful influence.

      She wondered now about Jackson. What kind of influence, if any, would he have on Noah? For, in fact, though he had no idea of it, they were all related now by Faith and Will’s secret marriage.

      Georgia brought the rest of the food to the table. She sat at one end of the small table, and Jackson sat at the other. Noah sat between them. Everyone was quiet for a while as they fixed their plates and began eating.

      “Is a tow truck coming to pull your car out of the mud?” Noah asked, chewing a slice of bacon.

      “I hope so,” Jackson answered. “I haven’t made any calls yet.”

      “The storm front isn’t expected to pass this area until late tonight. A front of cooler, drier air is moving south, through the midwestern states, at about twenty miles per hour,” Noah explained in a patient tone to the adults. “It could reach us tonight. Or could be stalled out by another low pressure system coming in from the Gulf region,” he warned.

      Jackson stared at the boy, wide-eyed, a forkful of pancakes held halfway between his plate and mouth. “You don’t say.”

      “Noah is very interested in the weather,” Georgia explained. “He has a weather-band radio up in his room.”

      “Can I watch the tow truck when it comes, Mom?” Noah asked, suddenly sounding his age again. “Please?” he wheedled.

      “We’ll see,” Georgia replied.

      “I bet they’ll send a flatbed,” Noah said with anticipation.

      “They’d better send a tugboat,” Jackson replied glumly as he glanced out the window. He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Great pancakes, by the way,” he added to Georgia.

      “Thanks,” Georgia replied. Was her cooking softening him up, she wondered? He hadn’t mentioned Will or her so-called wedding plans in—what was it?—an entire ten minutes.

      “I bet Will can eat a dozen of these,” Jackson said with a challenging look at Georgia. “He always had a thing for blueberry pancakes.”

      Noah’s face brightened. “Do you know my uncle Will?”

      “Don’t be silly, Noah,” Georgia said nervously. “How could he know Uncle Will? He means…someone else.”

      She glanced back at Jackson and felt her throat get tight.

      It was too late. The damage had been done. His tense, alert expression was that of a lion who had just caught the scent of his prey.

      “You have an uncle Will, do you?” he asked Noah in a light, conversational tone. “That’s funny. I have a brother with the same name.”

      “What a coincidence,” Georgia said, interrupting. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. “More pancakes anyone? Bacon? Orange juice?”

      “I’ll have another pancake, please,” Noah said.

      Jackson glared at her. He turned his attention back to his breakfast, obviously debating the ethics of prodding her son for information.

      “When СКАЧАТЬ