Baby, You're Mine. Peggy Moreland

to myself never to get trampled by a wealthy man.” The way Ruby had. She’d stick to her own class. One never could predict the future. Ruby sure hadn’t been able to. “I could be using you.”

      He actually chuckled.

      “You barely know me,” she said.

      “I have a first impression. And I’m good at reading people. Your only hang-up is you don’t really know jack about rich people.”

      Georgia had no idea why she was enjoying herself so much. He’d be insulting if he wasn’t talking in such a witty tone. But then, so would she.

      “Oh, and is it your job, now, to teach me about them?”

      “I think it’s going to be the first thing I’ve had the privilege to choose to do on my own since I was forced to leave the Marines.”

      What did he mean by that? Before she could ask, the attendant returned for their dinner order.

      “Do you mind if I choose?” he asked Georgia, showing her the menus.

      She shrugged. He was playing some sort of game with her, and she discovered she didn’t mind. And he liked being able to choose on his own. He could try to prove rich people weren’t all snobs and the middle class had it all wrong. She wasn’t going to buy it. “As long as it’s not slimy or has tentacles, I’m okay with that.”

      “Right in line with my taste.”

      With another one of his sexy grins, he read the menu and then waited for the attendant to return. Then he ordered the filet mignon with grilled asparagus.

      Georgia let him have his fun, telling herself it was harmless as long as she was immune to him. And it could be worse. She could be on his private jet.

      When the attendant left, he said, “To pick up from earlier, I wasn’t speaking from experience. No one’s ever cheated on me, and I’ve never cheated on anyone. It’s up there with robbery and animal cruelty for me.”

      It was so nonchalant that she had to stop and think about what he was saying. Why was it so important to him that she know he’d never been cheated on? Because of her perception of him? Maybe he didn’t want her to think that rich people didn’t have morals. It wasn’t his fault he was part of a ridiculously wealthy family.

      “You feel strongly about it.”

      “Yes.”

      This wasn’t because of her perception of him. He really didn’t like cheaters. “You’re a real stand-up kind of guy, aren’t you?” Her surprise came out in her voice.

      “Has anyone ever cheated on you?” he asked.

      “No.” But that brought up thoughts she’d rather didn’t enter her conscience. She turned away from him.

      He angled his head as though trying to see her face. “Something I said?”

      “No.” She shook her head, shaking off the dark thoughts along with it.

      He watched her a moment and then didn’t ask her any more questions. He gave her space. He’d nudged, but he knew when to back off, and she appreciated that. More than he could possibly know, and more than she’d tell him.

      The champagne arrived, strawberries floating on the surface. Georgia took a glass from the attendant. The woman left and she met the play of mischief that had returned to Carson’s eyes.

      “Is this what you do when you fly on your family jet?” she asked.

      “No. Never.”

      Never? She didn’t believe that. “This is just for me, huh? Have you ever treated a woman to champagne in a plane?”

      “No. Never.”

      She laughed softly. “I don’t believe you.”

      “I haven’t. I’ve been in the military. If I’d have been here all this time, maybe I would have. I didn’t use the jet in the military.”

      So, she was his first. She clinked her glass with his. “Here’s to trying new things.”

      “To new things.”

      She sipped some champagne. It was delicious. Sweet with a touch of dry.

      “Is it the best you’ve ever had?” he asked.

      She had to be honest. “Yes.”

      “Good. I’m going to give you a lot of those.” He focused on the pages on the table before him, as though what he’d just said was an everyday thing.

      “I don’t want you to spend money on me, Carson. I can pay my own way on this trip.”

      “Hmm.” He nodded. “I know. But you aren’t going to.”

      She twisted on the seat to face him more fully, still holding her glass. “No, Carson.”

      He turned his head. “Relax, Georgia. I want to spend money on you. You need someone to spend money on you.”

      Their meals arrived, and Georgia refrained from arguing with him. The dishes were gorgeous. She could forget she was on a commercial plane.

      She dug in, savoring the flavor of the meat and loving that Carson had thought of this.

      Carson stuck a forkful of meat in his mouth, all very not in a posh manner. He was more of a mountain man the way he ate the meat.

      She laughed but had to set him straight. “I don’t need any of this. I’m happy with my humble existence. In fact, I prefer it.”

      “You need to eat.”

      “You know what I mean.” She spread her hand over her plate and lifted her champagne glass.

      “Nobody needs it. But it sure is nice. Don’t you agree?” He waited while she debated how to answer.

      She couldn’t lie. “It is nice.” But what was nice about it—first-class or him?