Platinum Grooms: Pregnant at the Wedding

The waiter appeared with their entrees. Ashley glanced down at her plate of shrimp, covered with sun-dried tomatoes and sliced mushrooms and resting on angel hair pasta, while Ryan’s plate held a juicy, thick sirloin.

After the first bite, she smiled. “This is fantastic, Ryan. No wonder this restaurant is what you like best.”

“No. This is a favorite eating place. I have something else I like best,” he said in a deep voice, his green eyes intense on her. She knew he was flirting. “I think I’ve become a challenge to you. Maybe if I start hanging on each word and looking at you in an adoring manner the way Carlotta and Jenna do, you’ll run for the hills.”

“Try it and see,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

She couldn’t resist taking his hand and batting her eyes. “Oh, Ryan, tell me more about yourself,” she drawled, leaning forward and speaking in a breathless voice.

He inhaled and the amusement vanished from his expression. “That just makes me want to get the check so we can leave and I can be alone with you,” he growled. “I can lose interest in food and dinner conversation.”

Straightening, she yanked her hand away. “That didn’t have the effect I expected. I won’t try that one again,” she announced, and once more he smiled, but his gaze was speculative.

“I blew that in a hurry,” he said. “I have to tell you, that’s been the best moment of the night so far. Sure you don’t want to continue?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, because it won’t happen.”

“I should’ve acted indifferent, but that’s absolutely impossible with you. Okay, if we have to start over, why don’t you tell me about yourself. What’s in your future? What do you want out of life? I don’t believe we discussed that before.”

His question brought her situation crashing back, and the fun she’d been having with him changed as she remembered she intended to discourage and get rid of him. She shrugged. “I like my job and hope to continue it. Since it’s a franchise, it’s almost like my own business. I get a cut of the profits, so if business increases, my income grows.”

“That’s good,” he said, nodding. “Working for yourself, if it’s successful, is satisfying.”

“On your level it certainly would be,” she remarked dryly.

“On yours, too. You just said so. So what’s the best wedding you’ve done?”

“The one I enjoyed the most …” She paused to think a moment. “Probably one last December. It was a Christmas wedding, with reds and greens and beautiful decorations,” she said, telling him about the ceremony and wondering if he was really interested, their conversation drifting to other topics as they enjoyed their time together.

Her shrimp was delicious, but she didn’t have much of an appetite, and she noticed that neither did Ryan. While she talked, he listened, studying her and holding her hand. Each volatile contact heightened her awareness of him.

They discussed various subjects, and Ryan occasionally flirted, until he finally motioned to the waiter for their check.

When she looked around, she saw they were almost the last customers. She glanced at her watch. “My word, it’s ten o’clock. We’ve been here for hours.”

“Actually, not for hours. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he quipped as he smiled at her. “And I have had a great time tonight.”

While wind tangled locks of his black hair, lights in the parking lot threw his cheeks into shadows, highlighting his prominent cheekbones. She admired his self-assurance and optimism. He was confident, handsome and good company, making her wish that the situation were different between them. She blamed herself that it wasn’t, and again tried to pay attention to their conversation.

“You know I’ve had a great time, too,” she said. “And I know you want me to admit it.”

“Damn straight. Your confession reassures me,” he said, looking at her.

“As if you need encouragement,” she said, laughing when they reached his car. With a smile, he swung open the door.

“Are you saying I’m arrogant?”

“You’re confident. How’s that?”

“Much better. I’ll settle for confident.” He leaned closer to talk to her as she settled inside. Then he shut the door, and she watched him stride around the car and slide in beside her.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

“My place and—”

“Don’t make hasty decisions,” he urged. “Let’s see. I told you I’d go slowly and I have. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, it is,” she had to answer, because he had been. But that didn’t mean he would continue to, and she knew every minute they were together forged a stronger bond between them.

“Tell me where you live. And I’ll come get you in the morning and take you to work since you left your car at the office.”

“Well, there’s no point in arguing this one with you,” she said, telling him her address.

She gave him the combination to get through the wrought iron gates of her apartment complex and they drove past several blocks of single-story redbrick duplexes until she directed him to hers. He got out to open her door, and walked her to the front porch, where she faced him.

“It’s been a super evening, Ryan.”

“It’s early, really early,” he said. “I’d like to see your place.”

Part of her wanted him to come inside, and another part wanted to tell him to go. He stood in silence, waiting patiently, and she couldn’t resist. “Do you want to come in?” she asked with a smile, already knowing that was exactly what he hoped to do.

“Thanks, and of course.”

She opened her door and stopped to switch off the alarm system and turn on the light in the short entryway.

Ryan entered and she led him into the living room, turning on a lamp while, he looked around. “It’s great, Ashley,” he said.

“I moved here about a month ago, and I’m just getting new furniture,” she explained, trying to view it from his eyes. An Impressionist print in a gilt frame hung above an oak mantel above the brick fireplace. Her sofa and matching wing chair were upholstered in blue antique velvet, and she had a polished hardwood floor, but her place was modest and small compared to his sprawling high-rise condo with its terrace and magnificent view of Dallas.

He had four bedrooms, an entertainment center, an exercise room, a living area and dining room, all filled with elegant fruitwood furniture, and every convenience. Her duplex had to be unimpressive to him, but he was being polite.

“In here is the living area, where I spend all my time,” she said, leading him into a small, less formal room with a sofa upholstered in bright flowers and two matching chairs. An oak coffee table sat in front of the sofa.

He walked over to a wooden game table in one corner of the room to look at the chess set on it. “Ah, a game in progress.”

“I’m playing with someone via the computer,” she said.

“We’ll have to have a game,” he said. “We won’t disturb this one, but sometime soon, or when you finish this one, we can play.”

“I imagine you’re excellent at chess,” she said, unable to picture him doing anything that he didn’t consistently manage to succeed at.

“We’ll see,” he said. “It’s difficult to judge yourself.”

She laughed. “No, it isn’t! You just don’t want to admit, especially before we’ve played, that you rarely lose.”

“I’m going to have to improve my image with you,” he teased.

“No, and don’t even try,” she replied, realizing she was giving him one challenge after another.