Lady Be Good (24 page)

“Because I wasn’t invited! Besides, Lady Emma hardly needs a chaperone.”

“That’s what you think.” Kenny stalked over to the table and snatched up one of the glasses of iced tea Patrick had brought out for them.

His housekeeper regarded him with a speculative eye. “It’s flavored with passion fruit, Kenneth. Maybe you’d better drink something else. You don’t want to OD.”

Kenny ignored him. He knew exactly why Emma hadn’t invited Torie. She didn’t want any competition. Not that she’d try anything with Ted, since she knew whose son he was, but she’d been attracted to Dexter from the start. He rounded on his sister. “You listen to me. Dexter is your responsibility, and I want you to keep him away from Emma!”

“Mine!” Beads of water flew from her hair as she whirled around. “Damn, Kenny, are you jealous?”

That really made him mad. “Jealous! Of course not. It’s just that Emma’s sort of a—a sexual predator right now, and she’s got Dexter in her sights. The way she looks and everything—I mean, her mouth—well, the point is, if she sets her mind to it, it won’t take her long to get him in bed with her, and that wouldn’t be good . . . for him.”

“A sexual predator?” Torie stared at him.

“Since you’re a woman, you might have a hard time understanding, but you’ll have to trust me.”

“I’m not a woman,” Patrick drawled, “and I think you’ve lost your freaking mind.”

Kenny didn’t lower himself to pointing out the obvious. “Both of you’ll just have to believe me. Emma’s one of those women who was born with . . . The thing is, the minute a
heterosexual
man looks at her, all he can think about is—well, her mouth, and—”

“Emma?”
Torie’s own mouth gaped in astonishment.

Patrick crossed his legs. “Maybe we’re not talking about the same person. British accent? Good appetite? Hums songs from
The Lion King
when she doesn’t think anybody’s listening?”

Kenny clenched his jaw in frustration. “I knew the two of you wouldn’t understand. I don’t know why I even tried to explain.” He glared at his sister. “You just keep Dexter the hell away from her!”

With that, he headed for his car. He wasn’t sure where he was going; he only knew he wasn’t hanging around so Torie and Patrick could laugh at him.

Torie watched his car peel down the driveway, then looked over at Patrick. “What was that all about?”

Patrick looked glum as he pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. “It seems I have a serious rival for Kenneth’s affections.”

“Ten minutes ago I would have said you’re crazy, but I don’t now. I like Emma a lot, but Kenny’s way out of her league. It’s like matching up Snow White with, well, Kenny Traveler.”

“I like her, too. As a matter of fact, I adore her. But, you’re right. She’s hardly his type. Still, I must admit Kenny’s little hissy fit has thrown me for a loop.” He gave a deep, tragic sigh. “You have no idea what it’s like being a victim of hopeless passion.”

Torie regarded him sympathetically. Everybody but Kenny knew that Patrick had been in love with her brother from the moment he’d started swinging his fists in that roadhouse fight. Torie used to feel sorry for Patrick, but, as she’d grown to know him better, she’d realized he loved the drama of unrequited love as much as he loved Kenny.

Still, Kenny lusting after Lady Emma? She’d known his suspension had thrown him into an internal tailspin. Maybe he needed an emotional resting place right now, and that was why he’d chosen Lady Emma. She was stable, available, and completely temporary. Thanks to their crazy mother, he didn’t know how to relate to women as friends, and he’d confused his emotional needs with sexual ones.

Torie frowned, already worried about Emma. No woman could resist Kenny once he had his sights set, and Lady Emma, for all her intelligence, lacked experience, which made her more vulnerable than other women. If Kenny didn’t come to his senses, she was going to end up with a broken heart.

Unless Dexter got to her first.

Torie shoved a stick of gum in her mouth and tried to tell herself that a mutual attraction between Emma and Dexter would solve a lot of problems. Torie’d be off the hook as far as marrying him, and Emma would be safe from all the heartbreak Kenny was going to bring her. Anyone could see that Dexter and Lady Emma were perfect for each other. He was a dweeb, but—All right! He was a sexy dweeb. And Lady Emma was a cute dweeb. The two of them were made for each other. So why didn’t Torie feel happier about it?

Maybe because she’d just this moment realized something completely crazy. She’d been looking forward to getting to know Dexter a little better. But that wouldn’t happen if Lady Emma’d already caught his attention.

Kenny sat on the chaise staring at the pool lights and having a serious love affair with a very expensive pinot noir. It was after midnight, but Emma still wasn’t back from Austin.

Although Kenny wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t stone sober, either, which was okay by him because he was a lot more pleasant when he was sober, and he didn’t want to be pleasant right now. He’d come out here after he’d made himself miserable watching a video of last year’s final round of the Masters, but he’d only watched the video because he’d been trying to distract himself from images of Emma getting naked for Dexter.

If it weren’t for Dallie, he’d be preparing for Augusta now instead of thinking about Emma naked. His short game had never been better, he’d cleared up the problem he’d been having with his driving, and something inside him had been telling him for months that this was his year to wear the green jacket. But instead of doing that, he was baby-sitting a domineering thirty-year-old virgin.

Above him, the lights went on in her bedroom. So, she’d finally returned. His eyes narrowed just as they did when he was lining up a lightning-fast downhill putt.

He took his time finishing his wine, then carried the bottle inside. Usually this place seemed to welcome him, but tonight it didn’t feel so friendly. Maybe the house knew what he had in mind.

Carpet muffled the sound of his shoes on the stairs. He heard water running in the guest bathroom and, without bothering to knock, pushed open the door of the bedroom where she was staying.

She’d already put her mark on the place. Her straw hat decorated with cherries hung over one poster of the bed, and, although the flower-filled vase on the chest of drawers bore Patrick’s artistic touch, the bright yellow teapot containing the same kind of wildflowers that grew near the pasture fence could only have been arranged by Emma. She had books open everywhere, along with a folder of her research notes, a pink lotion jar, and an enormous bar of Cadbury dark chocolate, with the wrapper peeled back to expose the jagged edge where she’d nibbled at it.

The clothes she’d discarded lay on the bed, along with a lavender bra printed with little white daisies. A matching pair of bikini panties lay on the carpet next to her sandals. He stared at them for a moment, then wandered around the room before picking up her jar of lotion. He unscrewed it and took a sniff.

Baby powder, flowers, and spice. Even in his not-quite-sober state, the symbolism wasn’t lost on him.

He carried the jar to an overstuffed chair, sat down, and stretched out his legs. He dipped a finger inside and pulled out a fat pink curl of lotion, then rubbed it against his thumb. It was silky and utterly feminine. He brought it to his nose and thought about how women’s things could lull men’s senses. But not his—never entirely—because mixed with all that soft and silky femininity was a female’s need to reshape a man to fit her image of what she thought he should be.

His own manhood had been so hard won that he’d never been tempted to put it at risk by letting another woman get a stranglehold on him, especially an opinionated one. There was a private place inside him that made up who he was, and nobody ever touched that. Yet somehow today Emma had done it. Not knowingly. But it had happened, and now it was going to end.

As he rubbed the lotion into his palm and replaced the lid of the jar, he thought that women weren’t the only ones who could manipulate. His need to survive as a man had made him a master at the subtle art of getting what he wanted without giving up a thing.

The bathroom door swung open. She gave a hiss of surprise as she saw him and fumbled with the bath towel. He glimpsed breasts rosy from her shower, soft nipples, and damp ringlets of pubic hair a darker shade of butterscotch than the curls sticking to her cheeks. Blood surged to his groin.

“Bugger!” She finally managed to secure the towel. “You scared the life out of me! What are you doing in here?”

“Back a little late, aren’t you?”

Emma felt her heart kick an extra few beats from fright. He looked dangerous—sensuous lips thinned, violet eyes hooded. Something had happened to set him off. “I had no idea you’d be waiting up.”

“You must have forgotten that I’m responsible for you.”

“Rubbish. I’m responsible for myself. Now you’d better leave.”

He uncoiled from the chair and studied her for a long, hard moment. “Did you manage to give it away tonight?”

It took her a moment to absorb what he was saying, and then an indignant reply leaped to her lips. At the very last minute, however, she discovered that her curiosity was stronger than her displeasure. What was bothering him enough to make him look like a Cold War interrogator? “Are you asking if I had sex with Dexter tonight? Is that what this is about?”

Unfortunately, her directness didn’t make him back down an inch. “It might have been tough with Ted looking on. But maybe the two of you managed to get rid of him.”

Which to do first? Put on her robe or dump a pitcher of flower water on his head? She decided to stick with this a bit longer. “We dropped him off at his house about three hours ago.”

“So you and Dexter have been alone since then? Just the two of you.”

The flower water was too far away. She marched to the closet and pulled out her robe. “And I enjoyed every minute I spent with him.” She shoved her arms into her robe, yanked the towel out from beneath, and secured the sash. “If you have anything else to say about this—and I strongly advise against it—we can talk in the morning.”

“Nothing happened between you and Dex, did it?” A strange expression had come over his face. Almost . . . relief?

“The passion of his lovemaking was exceeded only by my screams of ecstasy.”

He came toward her, but he seemed to be speaking to himself. “Of course nothing happened. I knew that all along.” One of his hands curled over the bedpost. “But something could have happened, which is why I’m telling you right now that I don’t want you alone with him again.”

“If you’d been around this morning,” she pointed out, “I wouldn’t have been.”

“I wasn’t planning to be gone for long.”

“I didn’t know that, did I?” She dumped her clothes on a chair.

“From now on, you will. First thing tomorrow, we’re heading for the range. Then the rest of the day is yours.”

“Thank you. Now good night.”

He didn’t budge. “It’s still early. Let’s go for a swim.”

“I just took a shower.”

“So what? You can take another one. Matter of fact, I’ll take one with you. Or—you know what?” He paused and his eyes dipped to her mouth. “How about we just skip the swimming part and go right to the shower?”

She no longer felt quite as much in control as she had earlier. “What are you getting at?”

“I guess it’s obvious I’ve been worried about you.”

“Whatever for?”

He dropped his hand from the bedpost. “Because I don’t believe you realize how vulnerable you are. I guess I didn’t realize it, either, or I’d never have said what I did about how nothing was ever going to happen between us.”

She blinked her eyes. What exactly did he mean by that? “I’m not vulnerable.”

“You sure are. You’re hell bent on sleeping with somebody, and both of us know it. Unfortunately—and this is where I’m starting to lose sleep myself—you don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re doing.”

She bristled. “Considering the fact that you’re in my bedroom right now, and I’m nearly naked, I suppose I can’t argue.”

“I’m the safest man in the world for you to be nearly naked with.”

“You? Safe?”

“Sure I am.” Her incredulity seemed to irritate him. “Just think about it. You saw right through me the moment we met. You know I’m only out for sex, and you don’t have a single illusion about me. I guess that makes me about perfect for what you need.”

She swallowed. “That’s true.” Except it wasn’t entirely true. Kenny liked to paint the worst possible picture of himself, but he wasn’t the villain he pretended to be.

He gave her a satisfied nod. “Tonight I made up my mind not to take any more chances that you’re going to hook up with someone completely unsuitable.”

“Somebody like Dexter O’Conner, for example?”

His eyes narrowed. “He’s your worst nightmare. In the first place, a man like Dexter’s not going to know much more than the bare minimum about sex, so you’re guaranteed to have a rocky initiation. And in the second place, he’s likely to get distracted somewhere along the line and forget about birth control. The next thing you know, you’ll be pregnant with a little nerd baby, but old Dexter will have forgotten your name.”

She laughed. Obviously, he didn’t know Dexter nearly as well as he thought. She wondered how he was going to react when he figured out that his sister, despite her protests, was attracted to the “nerd.” For that matter, she wondered what Torie would do.

Emma considered the irony of knowing that Dexter was exactly the kind of man she’d always wanted to fall in love with, but not once today had she caught herself fantasizing about how he’d look naked. He’d been a marvelous guide, a great conversationalist, and they’d had a wonderful time, but she hadn’t looked at his lips and imagined what they’d feel like touching her own.

She tore her eyes away from Kenny’s lips. “So you’re saying you’ve changed your mind?”

“I have to, don’t I?”

His air of self-sacrifice got her hackles up. “Don’t put yourself out.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you want to swim first, or just go right to that shower?”