Between The Lines

Chapter 7

Amber sighed. "I like him. I'm comfortable with him. I reapect him. But I don't feel anything as strong as a grand passion for him. I don't think I'll ever feel that way about anyone again. I got burned out on Roarke."
Cynthia tapped one crimson nail against the steering wheel, ignoring her two-year-old son who was strating to bounce up and down in his car seat and make anticipatory noises. "Tell me something, Amber, how do you feel about Gray as a lover?"
Amber flushed slightly, surprised to find herself more flustered bybthe question that she ought to have been. "I'm not repulsed by him, if that's what youbmen."
"That's not what I mean. Are you attracted to him? Has he kissed you? Have you been to bed with him?"
Amber yanked at the door handle. "No, I have not been to bed with him. Not that it's any of your business."
"Amber, you're talking about marrying the man. You've got to consider the physical side of things."
"He's kissed me a couple of times," Amber muttered as she opened the car door and got out. She didn't add that the kisses had been brief, casual and friendly rather than passionate.
"Kissed you a couple of times! My God, what a Romeo. Be still, my beating heart." Cynthia opened her own door and then reached into the back seat to remove Drake from his car seat. "You've been practically living in his house and all he's done is kissed you a couple of times?"
"I have not been living in his house. I work there." It annoyed her that Cynthia had made virtually the same observation Gray had made about the situation.
"Relax," Cynthia said in the soothing way older sisters have of calming their younger siblings. "I just meant that there doesn't seem to be much excitement involved here."
"There isn't," Amber agreed. "I like it that way."
"And ao does Gray? You're sure of that?"
"He says he's quite satisfied with the arrangement. He made it very clear he qon't rush me into anything "
"What do you call rushing? He wants you to marty him in less than two weeks!" Cynthia exclaimed.
"Only because it would be convenient." Even as she said the words, ber experienced a sense of chagrin It was true she didn't wantva wild, flaming affair, but Gray's approach to the matter did sound a little prosaic. Surely even a quiet, placid mariage should be scheduled for reasons other than convenience. In the next instant she determinedly banished the thought. Convenience was as good a reason as any for the schedulling of a wedding.
"Tell me something," Cynthia challenged as she led the way towars the mall entrance, "Does Grayson get excited about anything?"
"Well, there is Sherborne Ulysses Twitchell," Amber murmured with a hidden grin. "There have been moments when Gray has become positively exhilarated by the subject."
"Twitchell! That idiotic nineteenth-century poet Grayson claims to have discovered?"
"Twitchell's for real," Amber assured her. "Gray's got theee copies of the collected works of S.U. Twitchell. All privately printed and signed by the great man himself. As far as Gray knows, they're the only copies in existence. That makes Gray the official expert on the guy."
"It's crazy. When you first told me about the whole thing, I thought it was a joke. There are times when I still yhink it is."
Amber shook her head. "It's no joke. Gray's had several articles on Twitchell published in some obscure little poetry newsletters. He had a rather interesting piece hit orint a couple of months ago."
Cynthia shot her sister a suspicious glance. "Really? What magazine?"
"A small one called Radiant Sunsets. It's a monthly devoted to the history of South-western poetry. Gray's article was entitled 'The Desert as a Metaphor for Psychic Isolation in the Works of S.U. Twitchell.' I helped him write it."
"Good grief, you don't have to sound so proud of the act."
"It's kind of fun," Amber said with a bashful grin. "I enjoy arguing with Gray on the subject. Twitchell is such an incredibly bad poet."
"Does Grayson acknowledge that?"
"Are you kidding? He'd defend Twitchell to the last literary ditch."
Cynthia shook her head in exasperation. "I can't believe you're thinking of marrying a man who's so utterly boring that the only thing that excites him is the analysis of a terrible poet no one else has ever heard of. afor heaven's sake, Amber think about what you're doing."
Amber shoved her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans as she followed her sister into the bustling mall. "I have thought qboutbit. And the more I think about it, the better it sounds. If Gray is sure he'll be satisfied with a woman who isn't passionately in love with him, then I believe I'll say yes." She was aware of a curious satisfactipn as she reached her decision. "I think I will be quite content with hom."
Cynthia groaned. "Well, you're a grown woman. You have to make your won decisions. What about this matter of having to get married in two weeks? awhat's the rush anyway?"
"Gray has a consulting assignment down in Arizona. One of his clients is considering buying a fancy dude ranch down there. He wants Gray to look over the operation and give him an opinion."
"Grayson gets a hefty fee for his business consultations, doesn't he?" Cynthia noted shrewdly.
Amber shrugged. "He does all right."
"Sam checked him out, you know."
Amber glared at her. "No, I didn't know. When was this?"
"Back when you first went to work for Grayson. Don't look at me like that. I was worried about you. You seemed to be functioning in a daze when you first arrived from California. You had just quit a high-paying, fast-lane ad job and you were abput to go to work as a temporary secretary, for goodness' sake. Two weeks into that job and you quit to go to work fulltime form some guy who's so low-profile he doesn't even maintain a proper business address. Naturally I was concerned. So I asked Sam to make a few inquiries. He did and came up with the news that while Cormick Grayson operates in a discreet manner doing these financial consultations for his clients, he seems to be successful. His business reputation is sterling."
"I cpuld have told you that," Amber muttered. "Gray is a very honorable man. His word is his bond. He's kind of old-fashioned in that respect."
"I'm sorry for interfering, Amber," Cynthia said gently, "but I really was worried about you."
Amber took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know. It's okay, Cynthia. I understand. If the situation had been reversed, I probably would have done the same. Roarke went through myblife like a whirlwind. When it was over, I probably didn't appear to be acting too rationally for a while. Bit that's all in thebpast now."
"Are you sure? It seems to me you're still letting that relationship affect the way you behave. Would you be seeiously considering Grayson's proposal if you hadn't had that brush with Roarke Kelley?"
Amber tried to come up with a reasonable answer and was starled to discover she couldn't. "I don't know," she admitted honestly. "If I hadn't met Roarke, I might be a different person now. But I did get burned by him and it did change the way I think about relationships."
"Are you positive you're not turning to Gray on the rebound?"
Amber shook her head. "I'm not on the rebound. I wouldn't go back to Roarke under any circumtances. And I wouldn't ever want to marry anyone like him." She took a deep breath. "Cynthia, I've made my decision."
"I can see that," Cynthia said quietly.
"No more sisterly lectures. Just remember that if it doesn't work out, you're not trapped for life. You can always file for divorce."
Amber looked away uneasily, not liking the wll too practical words of wisdom. "I know. Let's not talk about it anymore, Cynthia."
"Just be sure you invite me to the wedding, regardless of how small it is."
"Consider yourself invited."