Last Chance Beauty Queen (17 page)

And then, as if she’d conjured him up with her thoughts, Baron Woolham strolled down the pier and sat himself right down next to her.

He said nothing. Instead, like one of those English lords in one of Momma’s books, he handed her a fine cotton handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it. “Your mascara has run a little bit,” he said.

She took the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. The soft cotton came away black. She didn’t even want to think about how she looked at this moment—poured into a too-tight dress, her hair all windblown from her wild ride on Dash’s pony, and eye makeup destroyed by a PMS-laden moment.

And then there were her dirty, bare feet, and her close encounter with a pile of horse pucky.

So much for her carefully groomed professionalism.

“In case you’re wondering,” Hugh said in his clipped
accent and deep, sexy voice, “I wanted to put my fist through that buggar’s face. I might have done, too, except I worried that it might have added to your problems. And of course, I didn’t want to damage any more faces in Last Chance. I’ve been rather a prat in that regard.”

She straightened up and turned in his direction. He had cocked his head and was giving her the oddest smile. It didn’t quite touch his lips, but his eyes were full of kindness.

Something eased inside her chest. “Buggar? You mean Dash, right? You already punched Bubba.”

He nodded. “I really think that lassoing someone off a parade float is rather an immature way of showing one’s affection.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Apparently I’m seriously out of step with you Yanks in this regard. And up to now, I was thinking that Last Chance and Woolham were quite alike, actually.”

She laughed. “You’re being droll or something, aren’t you?”

“Or something,” he muttered. “Look, Caroline, I know it’s really not my place, but um… well, you see, I know everyone says Miriam Randall never gets it wrong, but that prat is not the right man for you.”

She let go of a sudden and unexpected laugh. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s a terrible dancer.”

His gaze seemed more avid than it should be. He leaned in a little bit, close enough for Caroline to see the texture of his closely shaved whiskers and to feel his body heat. She suddenly wanted to snuggle up to him and rest
her head on his shoulder. He had very broad shoulders, like every good English hero ought. But she couldn’t do that. Snuggling up to him would be very unprofessional. She needed to start thinking with her brains and not her hormones.

“Well,” she said, “dancing isn’t everything.”

“No. I suppose not. But you danced with Dash, and then ran away and came down here for a cry?” Hugh’s mouth finally quirked into a funny, uneven line. “I thought that was rather interesting, so I escaped from Cissy and came down to see if it was his dancing or something else.”

She looked away.

“So, what is it?”

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s really stupid. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Well, it’s just that every time I put on this dress, it’s like I have to live up to something that isn’t true.”

“What?”

“My brother, Stone, ran off with a Watermelon Queen when he was eighteen. He and Sharon found a justice of the peace and got married and didn’t come back for two days.”

“So what does that have to do with you?”

“It’s complicated. See, my sister-in-law died in a car wreck a few years ago, and if that hadn’t happened, she and Stone would probably be here together today, and everyone would be joking and laughing and retelling their story. But instead, no one can talk about it because it makes everyone so sad.”

“I see. So you were crying about Sharon?”

She nodded. “Yeah, and the expectations that Sharon’s behavior has imposed on every Watermelon Queen since. It’s like the town wants us all to run off and have a romance. When the truth is, Sharon, probably more than anyone else, is the person who encouraged me to avoid romance, go to college, and find a career instead.”

“Right. I think I’m getting it. But I must admit that I do sometimes have rather a problem with female logic.” He said it with humor in his voice; otherwise she might have punched him herself.

“See, Bubba asked me to marry him in front of everyone that summer I was Watermelon Queen. He had a full ride to Clemson, and I had a scholarship that I worked hard for at the University of South Carolina. He wanted me to give up my scholarship and come to Clemson, where I couldn’t afford to go to school. But he just wanted me to be his wife. He practically expected it, because that’s what Sharon did.

“I’ll never understand why Sharon gave up her chance to go to college. I’ve never asked my brother because it’s too sensitive a subject. But I knew I wanted to go to college. So I told Bubba no.

“The first time I said it privately.

“The second time, he forced the issue and asked me in front a big crowd of people. And I got angry and said a few things I’m not proud of. I’ve paid the price. Not only because I was ugly to Bubba, but because small towns are places where myths are invented on a daily basis. And the myth in this town is that I treated Bubba so bad that I broke his heart. He fell apart and ended up flunking out of college, thereby messing up a bright
NCAA college football career that was going to land him in the NFL.

“Sharon was proud of me for sticking to my guns. She might have been the only one. And I miss her.”

Caroline pressed the handkerchief to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to know all that, did you?”

Hugh reached out and patted her hand. His skin was warm and his hands conveyed a sense of gentle strength. “Darling, small villages can be trying sometimes. People must have their heroes, and when the heroes fall, someone has to be blamed.”

“What do you know about small towns?”

“I’ve lived my entire life in Woolham, which is about the same size as Last Chance. And being the lord there, everyone in the village expects me to live up to a standard set by my grandfather. I’m afraid I’ve been a terrible disappointment to them at times, and they’ve blamed my aunts for it.”

“Your aunts?”

“Yes, they raised me after Granddad got sick. And my aunts are a bit, well, peculiar. They get blamed for everything I do that isn’t exactly like what my grandfather did. It’s not quite fair to them because I’m the one who’s a failure.”

Somewhere close by, a cicada turned on its motor. The sounds of children laughing and country music floated on the summer air. And suddenly it seemed hotter and more humid than it had been a moment before. Everything seemed clearer, louder, larger than life. Even the texture of her tulle skirt against her legs seemed to affirm that she was alive. She could feel the life in everything around her.

“How are you a failure?” she asked. “You seem very successful to me. You went to college. You’ve invented a new kind of loom. You’re going to build a factory and employ people.”

He smiled with his eyes. “Well, the jury is still out on the factory, isn’t it?”

“Yes but—”

“You are so lovely,” Hugh said, halting her arguments. He raised his hand and adjusted the ribbon garland in her hair. His stiff upper lip softened. “Like the Queen of the American faeries. You look like you belong right here, among the palmettos and Spanish moss.”

Caroline closed her eyes and swallowed hard, but neither of those things did anything to stop the shivery feeling overtaking her middle or the prickling of her scalp where Hugh touched her hair. He thought she was lovely? She’d just shown him the worst parts of Rocky Rhodes and he’d taken them all in stride.

She opened her eyes, expecting him to have vanished like a magical fantasy lover. But he remained, looking down at her. His eyes were soft and warm. There was a little smile on his lips now. His hair was all-over curls. He was like some dream come true, only he was better. There were depths to him.

So she didn’t resist when he cocked his head and moved in. She didn’t stop when his not-so-stiff-upper-lip hit hers.

His mouth took her to some other world of heat and desire and wonderful sensation. He kissed like he waltzed. Closer than the air, but still farther away than she might like. Her body sang in reaction.

Holy smokes, this kiss was like something from out
of a romance book. The fact that it was happening on the second pier at the country club in Last Chance, South Carolina, didn’t diminish it in any way. She relaxed into the heat of his kiss and was just beginning to really enjoy the whole experience when a voice wafted down to them from the path.

H
ugh, where are you?” The sandpapery voice tugged Hugh right out of the moment.

Damn.
It hadn’t taken the bloody heiress long to find him, had it? He pulled away from the incredible woman in his arms.

Caroline’s kiss had been like the river, carrying him off to some new, but remarkably familiar place. Her scent made him dizzy. She looked up at him with those pixie eyes. She was amazing, despite her runny makeup and her wild, untamed hair. His chest felt heavy in a way that was new and strange.

That kiss had been… otherworldly.

He wanted to get back to it and discover what secret doors it might open to strange and lovely places.

“Hugh?” Cissy’s voice sounded louder.

He stood up and put several paces between himself and Caroline.

“Oh, there you are.” Cissy emerged from the undergrowth and stepped onto the pier. Her high heels rang
hollowly against the boards. She reached for his arm and took complete possession of it, just like William the Bastard conquering England.

It was only after she had staked her claim that she turned and pretended to notice Caroline for the first time. There was nothing genuine about this show. Hugh had no doubt Cissy knew exactly what he and Caroline had been doing.

What
had
they been doing?

Had he been dallying with her, like Granddad used to dally with young, common girls? The thought made him slightly sick.

Maybe he should thank Cissy for rescuing him from his own libido. But one look at the tousled and buxom Miss Rhodes and his libido was not feeling thankful at all.

Perhaps he was more like his grandfather than he had imagined. His chest constricted at the thought.

“Oh, Caroline, Daddy was looking for you,” Cissy said, then paused for a moment before continuing. “Honey, your mascara is a mess. You really need to go put yourself back together.” Hugh heard the disdain in Cissy’s voice. He didn’t like it very much.

Caroline dabbed her cheeks with his handkerchief. “Where is the senator?”

“Oh, he’s up at the pavilion but he’s fixing to go. That’s why I came to get Hugh.” Cissy turned her blue-eyed gaze on him. “You’ve been invited up to Columbia to our city house for the next few days. Daddy has suggested that we just let Caroline get the job done while you come and visit with us. Come along now. We’ll take you over to collect your luggage. Daddy figures nothing much is
going to happen down here until the town council meeting that’s scheduled for Tuesday. Might as well enjoy what the city has to offer.”

Cissy turned and gave Caroline an icy smile. “Daddy wants you to stay here and lobby the town council on Hugh’s behalf. I hope you have something a bit more professional to wear.”

A muscle ticked in Caroline’s cheek, and her shoulders tensed. But she kept whatever she wanted to say to herself. She stood up, stepped forward, and pushed the balled-up handkerchief into Hugh’s chest. “Thanks for listening,” she said, then turned on one bare foot and made her way with the grace of a queen toward the pathway leading up to the pavilion.

He tucked the cloth into his trouser pocket.

“Really, Hugh, I’m surprised at you,” Cissy said. “Caroline has a nice shape, even if she’s a tad top-heavy, but beyond that there really isn’t much there.” She reached out and took Hugh by the arm.

“You know you need me, don’t you?” she said. She ran her fingers up his arms and over his shoulder and tipped up on her toes to give him a kiss.

The woman certainly knew her way around a French kiss, but for all that experience, there wasn’t much magic in it. The kiss was competent and almost interesting. But in comparison to what had just happened with Caroline, Cissy’s kiss fell utterly flat.

She pulled back, her blue eyes sparking in the late afternoon sun. Her index finger played over his chin.

If he wanted to do his duty to the deBracy legacy, he should be considering the size of Cissy Warren’s bank
account right now. That was how Granddad took care of things.

That was how every deBracy took care of things, except for Hugh’s failure of a father. And given that Hugh had allowed himself to be swindled, and the land in Last Chance was swamp, and Elbert Rhodes was never, ever going to give up that marvelous golf course, Hugh looked to be following in his father’s footsteps.

Hugh could still salvage his situation by doing the one thing Granddad would approve of—marrying Victoria.

Granddad would also approve of his doing business with Cissy Warren, who, in addition to being a senator’s daughter with a trust fund, was also the chairwoman of the largest textile manufacturing company in the United States. Granddad would point out that Cissy was perfect for him, and Caroline was utterly unacceptable.

Just like Elisa.

Just thinking about Elisa made Hugh’s hands tremble. An old and deep-seated anger percolated through him. He gritted his teeth and sucked in air.

No, he wasn’t going to give in. Not this time.

“I do appreciate the invitation to Columbia,” he said in his most polite voice, “but I think I’ll stay here with Caroline and see what happens next.”

Cissy’s eyes grew round. “You honestly want to stay here?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s in the middle of nowhere, populated by rednecks, and their chief form of entertainment is spitting watermelon seeds.”

This was exactly the kind of thing his granddad used
to say about the people of Woolham. It was the kind of thing that brought out Hugh’s rebellious schoolboy every time.

He gave Cissy a polite smile. “Well, Cissy, the people in Last Chance
are
ordinary working people, it’s true. I hope, one day, they will be the people who work in my factory. That being the case, I plan to stay.”