Lady Be Good (28 page)

“His investigator’s here again.” She jerked her head toward the burly man. “I had to do something.”

He stared in the direction she’d indicated. One eyebrow shot up. Then he shook his head and handed the purse back to her. “I’ve never known a woman who could embarrass herself as much as you.”

She couldn’t tolerate his condescension after last night. “Let me out!”

“No.”

“I was going to give them back!” She caught herself. “What am I doing? Why am I explaining? I don’t have to tell you anything after what you’ve done today.”

“I sure didn’t lift any salt shakers.”

Ted leaned back, enjoying their argument.

“That man told Beddington all I bought at the drugstore was a
tabloid
!”

“Nasty stuff. Full of lies. Do you know they printed a story about me once? How I was supposed to be having this big love affair with my former junior high teacher.”

“That was actually true,” Ted pointed out.

Kenny ignored him. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to read one of those things.”

“That’s not the point!” she exclaimed. “But of course you know that. You think it’s clever to act as if you’re an idiot.”

“So you decided to give him something else not to report?”

She wanted to scratch the smugness right off his face! How long was she going to let other people dictate the course of her life? Beddington? Kenny? That incompetent fool standing by the bar? It was long past time she took control of her own destiny.

“Let me out! I mean it, Kenny. I’m going to settle this with him for once and for all.”

“I don’t advise it.”

“Either let me out or I’m going to crawl under the table.”

“A perfect example of why you people lost this country in the first place.”

“Are you moving?”

“Damn right I am!” He vaulted to his feet.

Several of the other onlookers poked each other. Kenny was going to give them something new to talk about.

She shot past him and headed straight toward the burly man. “I need to speak with you.”

He blinked. “All right.”

“In the first place, you were hired to do a job. But you haven’t done it very well, now, have you?”

He looked embarrassed, but Emma couldn’t afford to weaken. “For one thing, you haven’t been giving Beddington complete information. And isn’t that why he pays you? For example, you didn’t bother to tell him everything I bought at the drugstore two nights ago, did you?”

He turned red from his neck all the way to his thinning, straw-colored hair.

She crossed her arms. “And please tell me why not.”

“Well—”

“Did you just now see me stealing those salt and pepper shakers?”

He nodded.

“I was
stealing
them, you understand. I’m a thief! Now, are you going to tell him about it or not?”

“I—”

He looked so flustered that a little of her anger abated, and she began to feel a bit sorry for him. “Let me give you some advice, if I may. Beddington is a demanding employer. If he finds out you’ve been withholding information from him, he’ll be enormously displeased. And I can tell you from personal experience that he’s horrid when he’s displeased.”

If anything, he looked even more distressed. She felt like a bully, and her anger faded. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how we recover from them that counts, isn’t it? I suggest you make some careful notes before you call him. Tell him everything about the drugstore. And don’t forget to be very specific about the salt and pepper shakers. How does that sound to you?”

He swallowed.

She waited, giving him time to consider his options.

“Who’s Beddington?” he finally asked.

She stared at him. He looked so baffled, so embarrassed . . .

Heat began to crawl from her chest to her neck. She felt it creeping over her jaw and pooling in two bright circles on her cheeks.

And then she heard a familiar drawl coming from just behind her left shoulder. “Is this insane woman harassing you, Father Joseph?”

Father Joseph?

Emma whimpered. Kenny took her arm before she could turn and run. “Lady Emma, I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to Father Joseph Antelli. He’s been head priest at St. Gabriel’s for—How long’s it been, Father? Twenty years?”

“Nineteen.”

“That’s right. I was still raising hell when you came here.”

The priest nodded.

She whimpered again. “But . . . you—you can’t be a priest. You hang out in bars and wear orange T-shirts, and—”

“Now, Lady Emma, it’s hardly polite to criticize a man of God for his lack of fashion sense. And the Roustabout happens to have the best food in town. If I’m not mistaken, the local clergy holds their interdenominational meetings here, isn’t that right, Father?”

“The first Wednesday of every month.”

“But . . . you were watching me.”

“I’m very sorry about that, Lady Emma,” he said earnestly. “I’ve always been a bit of an anglophile, and I wanted to chat with you about England. Father Emmett and I are planning a trip there in the fall. I should have simply introduced myself, but when I realized how . . . complicated your personal life was, I decided not to intrude on your privacy.”

“Oh, dear. I can explain. All those things you saw—I mean, the other night . . . and the way I was sitting on Kenny’s lap . . . and the salt and pepper shakers—It’s—”

“Her friends are going to make sure she gets treatment real soon,” Kenny said.

Father Joseph regarded her with kind eyes. “Psychological problems are nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll pray for you, Lady Emma.”

As Kenny drew her away, all she could do was moan.

“You made me look like a fool!”

Kenny followed her as she rushed from the Roustabout. “Excuse me for pointing this out, but you did that all by yourself.”

“You should have told me who he was.”

“How did I know you were going to charge over there and light into him like Xena Warrior Goddess? Besides, nobody can tell you anything. You know it all.”

“I do not!” She realized some very nosy people had followed them outside to witness their argument, but she was beyond being embarrassed.

He shot ahead of her. “You’re bossy and pigheaded. And you get strange ideas. This whole plan of yours, for instance. It’s strange.”

“I’m sick of listening to you criticize me. Especially after what I saw today! You might think about looking at your own lunatic behavior instead of being so concerned with mine.”

Behind her, the door swung open and more of the Roustabout’s patrons began to emerge.

“My lunatic behavior doesn’t have anything to do with you!”

He annoyed her so much that she forgot about the crowd. “It does when you run away and leave me stranded next to a petting zoo!”

“I didn’t run away.”

“Ha!”

More patrons were gathering to watch. Kenny finally noticed and shot his finger toward the Cadillac. “Get in the car.”

“Stop ordering me! Just because I let you get away with it in the bedroom doesn’t mean I’ll put up with it now.”

“You tell him!” One of the women called out.

Kenny tensed as he realized they’d turned into a sideshow. “Get in that car!” he said under his breath.

“Go to bloody hell!” She snatched the keys from him and dashed around the front of the car. She expected him to yank her to a stop at any second, but what she heard instead was the sound of boots sliding, then a curse and a thud. Some of the men in the crowd groaned as Kenny slipped on the asphalt. She took advantage of his tumble and jumped in the car.

By some miracle, the key she shoved in the ignition was the proper one. In the mirror, she saw him spring back to his feet. She turned the key and stepped on the accelerator. The engine roared, but the car didn’t move. She maneuvered the gearshift and the car lurched forward, but not before she heard his angry bellow.

“
You can’t drive!
”

She barely avoided hitting a black pickup truck on her way across the parking lot. Her skin was damp, her mouth dry. What was she
doing
?

A glance in the rearview mirror showed Ted Beaudine standing in the center of the crowd, a huge grin plastered over his face. She remembered him telling her that his parents had once fought in this same parking lot. Then she glimpsed Kenny running, actually
running
, toward her, and she forgot about everything else.

Taking a hurried glance up and down the highway, she saw that it was blessedly free of traffic.
Right side. Right side. Right side
. With a jerk on the wheel, she turned out onto the road.

Her palms were so sweaty they slipped on the steering wheel. Never had she imagined she had such a terrible temper. And look where it had landed her—behind the wheel of a car she didn’t know how to drive, being chased down a Texas highway by a multimillionaire golf pro.

As she concentrated on keeping the big Cadillac between the lane markers, she kept darting glances in the side mirror and saw that he was gaining on her. Biting the inside of her lip, she pressed a bit harder on the accelerator.

The needle edged to twelve miles an hour.

Cars began to stack up behind her.

She hated driving! Why had she done this?

The door on the passenger side flew open. Kenny ducked his head inside and shouted, “Pull over!”

She yearned to slam her foot on the accelerator, but as much as she wanted to murder him, she didn’t actually want to
kill
him, so she hesitated, which proved to be a mistake because he jumped in the car. “Pull off the road!”

She kept going, eyes straight ahead, fingers rigormortized around the wheel.

He yanked his door shut. “If you’re not going to pull off, then for God’s sake speed up before you get rear-ended.”

“I know what I’m doing! Torie taught me to drive.”

“Then
drive
!”

She bit her bottom lip and pressed the accelerator. “There! I’m going thirty. I hope you’re satisfied.”

“The speed limit’s sixty.”

“You think I’m afraid to go sixty? I’m not!” She died a thousand deaths, but she got the speedometer to fortyfive. The cars continued to stack up behind her.

She heard teeth grinding. His words had a tight sound to them. “Pull off up there on the right. Put on your turn signal.”

Because she wanted to pull off, she did what he said.

“By that crooked tree. Turn there.”

Horns blared behind her as she took the corner too fast and ended up in the sandy soil next to the narrow dirt road.

“You were supposed to slow down first!” he yelled.

“You didn’t tell me that. You told me to go faster.”

“Not when you’re turning!” Once again she heard that awful tooth-grinding, then a deeply inhaled breath. “Never mind. Just keep going till you’re behind those trees.”

When she finally stopped the car, she was so relieved she felt limp. She propped her arm on top of the steering wheel, rested her forehead, and closed her eyes.

She sensed movement and heard him turn off the ignition. The leather creaked as he settled into the seat. Time ticked by. The unsteady sound of her breathing rasped in her ears.

Finally, something warm curled around the back of her neck. Rubbed. “You crying, Lady Emma?”

“No,” she answered as firmly as she could. “Just thinking about it.”

“Why don’t you come over here and think about it?” He drew her close, and the next thing she knew, she was curled against his chest.

It was cozy. Comforting. He smelled nice. Clean shirt faintly overlaid with baby.

She refused to cry. Still, it felt good being where she was.

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke in a husky voice. “Would you think I was an insensitive jerk if I slipped my hands inside your blouse?”

She thought about it, then shook her head.

His fingers tickled her skin as he reached between them to unfastened the buttons, then opened the catch of her bra. He traced the shape of her breast with his thumb and kissed her. Then he said softly, “I enjoyed last night.”

“I did, too.”

“You make nice sounds in bed.”

“I do?”

“Uh-huh.” He touched her nipple.

She gave a hum of pleasure.

“Like that.” He shifted her position and his mouth settled over the sensitive tip. He tugged. She arched and gave in to the delicious sensations. When she could no longer hold still, she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and slipped her hand inside to feel that warm, taut skin beneath her palms.

It seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. Within seconds, her blouse hung from her shoulders, her shorts lay in a heap, and her panties draped from one calf. She wasn’t idle, either, and his shirt soon joined her shorts. Through the open zipper of his jeans, she saw navy silk boxers.

“I . . . need to do this.” He shifted her so that she leaned back against the opposite side. Then he spread her legs and lowered his head.

Crisp, dark hair brushed the insides of her thighs, trailed over the soft skin, moved higher until she felt his mouth on her. There . . .

She gasped. Breathed his name. Lost her breath.

He took his time with this, as he did with everything else. She forgot her uncomfortable position, forgot that they were in a car, forgot everything except the touch of his fingers and the deep, wet stroking. Her orgasm came in a noisy sob that shook her entire body.

He stayed. Dallied more. Sent her flying again.

Oh . . . this was too splendid. She wasn’t even aware of her own hands moving against him until he stilled them. She could feel his thick shape through the silk of his boxers and knew it wasn’t lack of desire that made him stop her. She lifted her head and gazed questioningly into the smoky violet eyes.

He looked anguished, and he barely seemed to be able to get out the words. “I need my wallet. I don’t have anything with me.”

She smiled. “I’m on the pill.”

“The pill? But—why didn’t you tell me last night?”

“You ordered me not to talk.” She brushed her lips over his. “And I didn’t want to explain anyway. I’ve been on the pill for a while. Just in case.”