Free Georgie's Heart by Kathryn Brocato Page A

mind to make her react that way.
    â€œIn short, you’ve been disillusioned.” Zane smiled. “Georgie, I’m going to do my best to make you believe in destiny. In another week, you can report on any changes in your beliefs.”
    *
    Georgeanne drove herself home and wondered what on earth Zane meant. His words sounded like a vow, but she certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who inspired men to go around vowing to change a woman’s perceptions of the world.
    When she arrived at the clinic site prepared to paint, and found Zane and Dr. Baghri already present, she soon realized her perceptions of the world were indeed changing, and that Zane Bryant was behind the change. He would be lucky if she didn’t strangle him before the night was out.
    â€œYou’re not getting on that ladder, Georgie,” Zane said in stern tones. “Don’t even think about it.”
    Georgeanne, comfortable in a man’s work shirt and her old painting jeans, turned to stare at him. Zane had driven her back to the Gant Clinic to pick up her car then had gone to Dr. Baghri’s house, where he was staying the weekend. He had changed into jeans and an old knit shirt that outlined his powerful shoulders and enhanced his commanding presence.
    Georgeanne did not consider herself a particularly commandable woman. Moreover, in this case she was the commander, and Zane was one of her commandees.
    â€œZane, I am painting this ceiling.” She indicated the ceiling in the clinic’s waiting room. “Tall as I am, I still cannot paint it if I stand on the floor. Besides, you were assigned to paint the examining room. Why are you in here bugging me?”
    â€œI’m in here because I’m going to paint the ceiling while you paint the windows.”
    â€œI do not do windows,” Georgeanne said with dignity. “I do ceilings.” She gestured at her hair. It was pulled back in a heavy ponytail for the occasion, and she had tied a scarf over as much of her hair as she could cover.
    â€œYou don’t do ceilings tonight. Not after you spent half of last night scrubbing these floors. You’re exhausted, whether you know it or not. Come away from that ladder.”
    Georgeanne felt her eyes open wide. “Exhausted? Me?”
    Zane’s face reflected his struggle not to laugh, she saw with resentment.
    He climbed the ladder himself. “Yes, you. In case you’re thinking I’ve gotten above myself, let me tell you that Dr. Baghri and Dr. Gant both agree with me.”
    Georgeanne took a moment to master herself. One did not argue with doctors in public. It ruined the godlike image so dear to the medical heart. “What you mean is that you bullied them into agreeing with you. Very well, Doctor. If you want to hog the ceiling, you may do so. I’ll take the examining room.”
    â€œAngela has already agreed to do the examining room.” Zane directed a charming smile down at her from atop the ladder Georgeanne should have been on. “I wanted a chance to talk to you while we work.”
    Georgeanne regarded him with considerable suspicion.
    Zane broke into unabashed laughter. “Not many people argue with you, do they?”
    â€œThey know better.” Georgeanne smiled reluctantly.
    â€œPaint the windows, Georgie,” Sandra struck in. “Dr. Bryant is right. If you aren’t exhausted, you should be.”
    â€œThe day scrubbing a mere floor exhausts me is the day I pick out my coffin.” Georgeanne picked up a sash brush and a can of paint with ill grace. “I can see the composition of my painting crew needs some reassessment.”
    â€œForget the windows, Georgie,” Zane said. “Why don’t you fetch your whip and walk around keeping everyone’s nose to the grindstone. We don’t want you to collapse before the clinic’s grand opening.”
    Outraged, Georgeanne stared up at him. “I have never collapsed in my