Platinum Grooms: Pregnant at the Wedding. Sara Orwig

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.

      Bookshelves lined one wall, and Ryan strolled across the room to study the contents of her shelves. Ashley knew she was going to remember him prowling around her duplex. She looked at his broad shoulders and recalled with absolute clarity how he’d look nude, walking away from the bed.

      Drawing a deep breath, she tried to focus her mind elsewhere, talking without half thinking about what she was saying. “My kitchen is over here,” she said, leading him into a space that was about one-sixth the size of his. It had a small eating area and a tiny island in the center. “And that’s it.” She smiled at him. “Unless you want to see my utility room.”

      “I haven’t seen your bedroom,” he reminded her. “Give me the deluxe tour.”

      “Sure,” she replied, trying to sound casual and not think about a bed and Ryan in it.

      “Here it is,” she said, and he followed her into her blue bedroom, walking around to look at items on her desk, pictures on the wall and memorabilia on her shelves. He reached out to pick up one of her tennis trophies. “You’re good at tennis. We’ll have to play.”

      “Right now I’ve given it up,” she said, and watched his dark eyebrows arch.

      “How come?” he asked, replacing the trophy on the shelf.

      She realized she couldn’t give him the right answer and tried to think of an excuse. But silence stretched, and she began to panic, searching for something to say.

      “Tennis elbow,” she answered at last.

      “Too bad. I was looking forward to a match with you. Chess and tennis. There are two things we both enjoy, so we might as well do them together when we can.”

      “They’re both competitive.”

      “All the better,” he said softly. “I like competing with you.”

      “I suspect you’re happy to compete with the world because most of the time, you’re satisfied with the outcome,” she said, and he smiled.

      “What do you do for your elbow?” he asked, walking over to her.

      “There’s not much I can do,” she replied, avoiding his eyes and wishing she could think of another subject. “Now you’ve seen my room.”

      He turned to look at her bed. “I’ll know where to picture you in my mind when I talk to you on the phone.” His voice had lowered a notch, and she wondered if he was remembering their weekend together, too.

      “That’s the tour. There’s an extra bedroom. Want something to drink?”

      “Sure. I’ll have pop.”

      He strolled beside her as they returned to the kitchen, where she got pop for him, ice water for herself and a plate of cookies. “We can go in the living room where it’s more comfortable,” she said. Seconds later, she was sitting on the sofa. He chose one of the chairs, putting distance between them, and she realized he was doing what he’d promised—going slowly.

      “Has your family seen this place?”

      She shook her head. “Not yet. My dad and brother don’t get into the city often unless there’s a cattle sale or something like that. My grandmother hardly ever leaves our area.”

      “How’s your dad feeling?”

      “He’s getting along all right from what my brother tells me. Jeff says Dad is still working too hard for a man who’s had a heart attack, but there’s nothing any of us can do about that. The flood last year was another big blow. Health insurance is an endless problem.”

      “And you’re still helping out financially?” Ryan asked bluntly, and she nodded.

      “Yes, I’m happy to,” she replied.

      “I know what you mean,” he said, and she wondered if Ryan even remembered the sacrifices of his early years.

      He stretched out his long legs. “I’m sorry your family has problems.”

      “We’ll get through them. Dad says we always have.”

      “So what weddings are coming up?” Ryan asked, changing the subject. As she talked, she realized he was a good listener.

      Finally, he stood and picked up his glass. “I’ll put this in the kitchen and then I better go. It’s late.”

      She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see it was nearly one in the morning. “Great heavens! On work nights I go to bed early.”

      “Sorry if I kept you up past your bedtime. You should’ve thrown me out.”

      “Oh, sure,” she said. “Leave your glass. I’ll put it up.”

      He crossed the room to her. “Since I’m taking you to work in the morning, eat breakfast with me tomorrow. That’s harmless.”

      “Ryan, nothing is ‘harmless’ with you,” she answered.

      “Ah, now that’s great news,” he replied, and she shook her head. “So even breakfast with me is different from breakfast with John Doe or Susie Smith? Sometime I’ll try to discover why, but not yet. Tonight, I’m taking it ever so slowly—don’t you agree?”

      “Of course, and you have to hear me say that, too.”

      “I just want to make certain I’m doing what you like,” he said with great innocence. He stood inches away, and was bantering her, but she had spent an enjoyable evening with him. They had touched lightly and casually, but each contact was fiery, and longing had steadily built, until now she ached to wrap her arms around him and kiss him. She had no intention of doing so, yet she was certain that before he told her goodbye, that was exactly what he would do. She couldn’t imagine he would walk away without a kiss.

      “I’ll pick you up, so let’s have breakfast.”

      “All right,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I have to have my sleep. I’ll call and arrange to go in late, so can you come at half-past eight—or does that make you too late?”

      “Half-past eight it is.” They walked to the door,