s Emma walked into the hotel lobby toward Kenny, shesaw that the hard-eyed stranger who’d brought her to the hotel the night before had disappeared and the affable loafer had taken his place. This time, however, she wasn’t fooled.

For a moment she forgot what a scoundrel he was and simply enjoyed the sight. He’d left his Stetson behind, and his crisp dark hair gleamed in the light coming through the atrium. He wore a faded University of Texas T-shirt, tan shorts, and brown work boots with an inch of snowy white sock visible at the top. Her sanity returned as the corner of his mouth kicked up.

“Mornin’, Lady Emma. Glad to see you brought your umbrella. It’s sure to rain sometime this year.”

She glanced down at her floral brolly as if she couldn’t imagine how it had gotten there, then regarded him with a cheery smile and deliberately jabbed it toward the door. “Let’s be off, then.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes narrow. “Breakfast first. Then business.”

“I’ve already eaten.”

He gazed down at her with those lazy violet eyes, then used his slow drawl to whip her into line. “Now, Lady Emma, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten whose payroll you’re on.”

She should have expected this.

“I’m going to have some blueberry pancakes this morning.” His fingers wrapped around her upper arm. “How about you?”

She considered mentioning her pleasant conversation with Francesca less than half an hour ago and the fact that she could call her good friend back at any moment, but then she hesitated. It would be wise to reserve her Francesca ammunition for bigger battles. Whether or not she ate a second breakfast this morning wasn’t that important.

As they settled at a booth in the coffee shop, she thought about what she’d nearly done with this man yesterday and wondered if jet lag had deprived her of her common sense. What had she hoped to accomplish by jumping into Kenny Traveler’s bed less than twelve hours after she’d arrived in this country? If she intended to sleep with someone, she should at least have made certain that Hugh had his watchdogs in place. Her impulsiveness was uncharacteristic, and it made her uneasy.

“Just tea for me,” she said as the waitress approached to take their orders.

Kenny beamed his approval at her. “Good choice. But add some blueberry pancakes to her order, along with a side of bacon, and I believe I’ll have the same for myself, except forget the tea and bring coffee instead.”

He was deliberately provoking her, but she simply smiled. “Change the blueberry pancakes to toast, if you would. And substitute a bowl of strawberries for the bacon.”

The harried waitress poured his coffee, then rushed off before either of them could further complicate the order.

They had work to do, and Emma had witnessed enough of his nonsense. She took only a moment to enjoy a display of fresh flowers near the door before getting to the point. “Did you find a tattoo parlor?”

“You are not getting a tattoo. The whole idea’s ridiculous.”

“I am getting a tattoo. And I’m doing it today. This isn’t negotiable.” She doubted a tattoo alone would put a stop to her engagement, but it should make Hugh begin to question his judgment. She looked around the coffee shop, wondering if any of the men hunkered down behind their newspapers had been hired to watch her. No one looked suspicious, but she didn’t for a moment believe that Hugh would allow her these two weeks unobserved. The fact that he’d found her so easily this morning proved that.

“How are you going to face all those little girls you headmistress over with a tattoo?” Kenny inquired.

She wouldn’t be facing those little girls, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “It’ll help them relate better to me.”

“If that’s all you want, why not go all the way and get your tongue pierced? Or dye your hair purple?”

She’d thought about getting pierced, but she’d worried about infection, and dying her hair some outrageous color would be too obvious. A very small tattoo was as far as she dared to go. Hugh needed to believe he’d misjudged her character, not that she was deliberately manipulating him, or he’d bulldoze St. Gert’s. The waitress arrived with her tea, then disappeared.

“And just where do you plan to put that tattoo?”

“My upper arm.” Once this was over, she’d have to keep it covered for the rest of her life.

“Ladies don’t put tattoos on their upper arms. They put them on an ankle or the back of a shoulder or, if they really want to be discreet—and this is what I’d recommend in your case if I were going to make a recommendation, which I’m not—abreast.”

Her cup froze halfway to her lips. That single word brought it all back. The feel of the silk sliding away from her skin, the warmth of his mouth, the pull of his lips on her nipple.

He knew exactly what he was doing, of course.

“Would you, now?” She forced the cup the rest of the way to her mouth, sipped, then set it back down. “Well, I’m certain you should know.”

“You’re still pissed about last night, aren’t you?”

“Miffed, Mr. Traveler. Headmistresses are never pissed.”

He grinned, then regarded her with boyish earnestness. “Fill in the holes in my logic here, will you? The way I see it, you’re a very nice unmarried lady who’d like a little sexual variety in her life. Perfectly natural. But back home in England, you have a reputation to maintain, so you sure can’t do any experimentation there. In the great state of Texas, though, nobody’s going to be any the wiser. Now, what I want to know is this: What difference does it make whether I happen to be a professional gigolo or a professional golfer? I’ve got all the necessary equipment, and I’m happy to let you use it.”

“You’re far too generous with your toys, but the fact is... I wouldn’t let you touch me again if you were the last man on earth.” The moment she’d spoken the words a red alert sounded in her brain. This lazy fool, who wasn’t a fool at all, made his living by competing, and, unless she was mistaken, she could see the light of challenge beginning to gleam in his eyes.

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that, now, won’t we, Lady Emma?”

Thankfully, the waitress appeared at that moment with their food. Emma ate most of her strawberries, but wasn’t able to manage more than a few bites of toast. Kenny finished his pancakes, then dug into her leftovers.

“That’s not sanitary,” she pointed out.

“We already swapped germs last night, so I’m not too worried about it.”

She wasn’t going to let him make her uncomfortable by thinking about those slow, deep kisses. “It’s a wonder you aren’t fat, with the way you eat.”

“I burn a lot of energy during the day.”

“Doingwhat?”

“Loafing’s hard work.”

She had to suppress a smile, and that bothered her. She wouldn’t let herself be won over this easily by his counterfeit charm. “If you won’t help me find a tattoo parlor, I’ll simply consult the telephone directory and find one myself. In the meantime, I need to do some shopping.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a research trip.” He signaled the waitress for the check.

“It is, but research won’t take up all my time. I do want to spend a few hours this afternoon at the Dallas Historical Society. I’ve made arrangements to check some of their papers. I also have a bit of work to do in Austin at the University of Texas library and in San Antonio.”

“So tell me more about this lady you’re researching.”

“Lady Sarah Thornton? I’m doing a paper on her for theNew Historian. Although I’m not in the classroom anymore, I like to stay involved. Lady Sarah was an extraordinary woman, a member of the aristocracy, but quite independent for her time, and insatiably curious. She traveled alone through this region in 1872.”

“She managed the trip by herself, did she?” he said pointedly.

“Lady Sarah was more courageous than I am. Her account is fascinating because she saw Texas both through the eyes of a foreigner and a woman. She was in Dallas the day the first train arrived on the Houston & Texas Central. Her description of the buffalo barbecue they held to celebrate is very lively.”

He tossed some bills on the table and rose. “Seems strange a lady in 1872 would have had the nerve to travel through Texas all by herself, but a modern-day, independent woman like yourself is such a pansy.”

“Lady Sarah didn’t have to deal with cars,” she pointed out as she followed him. Lady Sarah also didn’t need to make a duke uneasy by openly traveling with a good-looking man.

As they walked back into the lobby, she handed him two dollars. “To cover my tea. You made me order the rest, so you can pay for it.”

“Keep your two dollars.”

“No need to be surly.” She tucked the bills back into her purse and, just to antagonize him, pointed her brolly toward the door. “This way.”

He snatched it from her hand and pitched it at the doorman. “Burn this for me, will you?”

“Deliver it to my room, please,” she told the doorman. “Ms. Wells-Finch. Number 820.”

She was headed for the parking lot before she realized Kenny wasn’t with her and she had no idea where he’d put his car.

She looked back and saw him moving like a snail on sleeping pills out from beneath the porte cochere. She tapped the toe of her sandal.

He greeted a pair of businessmen, then stopped to admire some tile work.

She sighed and looked around for his car. Somehow she wasn’t surprised to spot it parked in a handicapped spot. She waited impatiently for him to approach.

Finally, he unlocked the door. “You sure you have to do your shopping today?” he asked as she slipped inside and fastened her seat belt.

“Yes. Someplace trendy, but inexpensive.”

“Then you’re out of luck because I don’t know the first thing about bargain shopping. Just buy what you want and put it on my charge.” They turned back out onto the highway.

“I will not!”

“Why get picky now? You didn’t object to that one hundred dollars a day you’re forcing me to pay to keep your mouth shut.”

“Twohundred dollars a day. And that’s blackmail money, so it’s different, isn’t it?” She regarded him smugly.

His gaze swept over the outfit she’d chosen for today: a short denim skirt in persimmon with a cream-colored top tucked into it. The top had a garden scene printed on it, complete with a pair of bluebirds. “Nice shirt.”

“Thank you. My fifth form students gave it to me at the end of the term.”

As they rode along the freeway, she finally had a chance to take in the sights of this state she knew only from history books. The collections of strip malls, billboards, and fast food restaurants held little interest to her, but the sheer size of it took her breath away. She couldn’t imagine anything more different from Lower Tilbey or from St. Gert’s aged red brick buildings, tidy lawns, and ancient trees. What must Lady Sarah Thornton have thought when she saw such a vast stretch of land and sky?

She leaned forward as Kenny began to pull into another handicapped space. “Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t going to park here,” he said with an air of injured innocence. “Shopping with a lady isn’t my favorite activity, so I’m just dropping you off while I hit some balls at the practice range. I’ll pick you up in three hours.”

“Gracious, I know exactly what I want, and it won’t take me nearly that long.” She whipped his keys from the ignition. “Come along, then.”

He snatched his keys back, but he came with her, although he grumbled the entire way into the mall. “You’d better not take more than half an hour. I mean it, Lady Emma. After half an hour, me and my Caddy are taking off whether you’re with us or not.”

“Uhm.” She studied the shop windows and, almost immediately, saw what she wanted. She gestured toward a rounded concrete bench. “Wait right here. I won’t be a moment.”

“You are the damnedest, most order-giving female it’s ever been my misfortune to meet up with! Do you think I can just sit in the middle of a major American shopping mall without starting a near riot?”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“I’m a semi-famous person, that’s what.”

As if to prove his words, two young women carrying pink Victoria’s Secret shopping bags came charging toward him. “Kinny!”

He glared at her. “Now see what you’ve done?”

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

She wasn’t, but by the time she’d returned, he had a small crowd gathered around him, and he seemed to be holding an impromptu golf clinic.

“After you get to the top, make sure you start down nice and smooth. You want to build up that speed as you go through....”

She caught his eye, but, for all his former protesting, he appeared to be enjoying himself and didn’t seem in any hurry to get away. She ducked into an accessory place and added a few pieces of inexpensive costume jewelry to her purchases before he finally broke away from his admirers and led her back to the car.

“Now the tattoo,” she said when they were once again on the road.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

He thought for a few minutes. “All right, if you’re dead set, I’ll help you. But it’s going to take me a little time to find a place where you can be sure they’re using clean needles.”

“Needles?”

“How do you think they put those tattoos on?”

“Yes, of course. I mean... I know they use needles. It was just the way you said the word.”

“It’s going to hurt, Queen Elizabeth. So if you can’t take the pain, maybe you’d better rethink this.”

“It won’t be that painful.”

His snort wasn’t encouraging.

“You’re just trying to unnerve me.”

“Well, excuse me for being a compassionate and caring human being.”

“Ha!”

“All right. You win. I’ll look into the whole thing after I drop you off to do your research.”

For once he was thinking efficiently. “Excellent idea.”

They headed for the State Fair Park, where the Dallas Historical Society was located in an impressive, T-shaped pavilion called the Hall of State. She slipped out of his car in the parking lot after agreeing to meet at three o’clock.

Although she had intended to head immediately for the offices of the Historical Society, she discovered there was too much she wanted to see first, and she took her time studying the giant murals that ran around the four-story interior of the Great Hall of Texas, depicting the state’s history from 1528 into the twentieth century. When she finally arrived at the Historical Society offices, she was greeted warmly, and she spent the next few hours cross-checking the notes she’d taken from Lady Sarah’s journal with other sources from the time period. She was so absorbed in her research that she lost track of time and didn’t arrive at the spot where she was supposed to meet Kenny until three-fifteen.

The Cadillac was waiting, along with its irate driver. “You’re late. I hate that!”

“Really, Kenny, you have no right to complain. How was I supposed to know you’d be prompt today after you were so late yesterday?”

“Yesterday was different.”

“Because you were the one who was late instead of me.”

“Something like that.”

“You’re impossible. Did you find the tattoo parlor?”

“Even better. I found a lady who does tattoos in her home.”

“Really? And you think she’s reliable?”

“Pillar of the community. You’re not going to get anyone more reliable. Only thing is, she’s got a busy schedule, and she can’t take you till ten o’clock tonight. I had to practically beg for that.”

She hoped Hugh’s detectives would be around. “That’ll be fine.” Her stomach rumbled. “I could use a bit of lunch.”

“I know just the place.”

Twenty minutes later they drove through the stone gates of a country club that screamed exclusivity. The tree-shrouded lane ended in a pillared Greek Revival–style building. After Kenny parked, she got out and headed for the front entrance. Once again, it took her a while before she realized he wasn’t following. She turned.

He stood watching her, his hands splayed on his hips. “Do you know where you’re going?”

She glanced around. “Not really.”

“Then why are you leading?”

“I don’t know. I always do.”

“Well, stop. I don’t like it.”

Neither had Jeremy Fox. But she wasn’t the kind of woman to be a follower. She’d been on her own most of her life, and she’d learned very early that she could either lead the way or get trampled.

He jerked his thumb toward a smaller building. “We’re going over there.”

“Sorry.” She felt foolish as she followed him along a walk that led to a door topped with ornately carved gold wooden letters indicating it was the pro shop. The men inside greeted him as if he were visiting royalty.

“Hey, Kinny! How’s it goin’?”

“Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Did you hear Charlie made an eagle on seven yesterday? Got so excited his heart kicked up, and he couldn’t finish the round.”

Kenny returned their greetings, said he hadn’t heard about Charlie, then led Emma toward a glass-walled grill room that connected to one end. “Hope you don’t mind eating alone.” He gestured toward the hostess. “Take care of her, will you, Maryann? I’m gonna hit some balls.”

“Sure ’nough, Kenny. Did you know everybody on the staff signed a petition to the Antichrist to get you back on tour?”

“Well, now, I appreciate that. You be sure and tell ’em all thanks for me.”

He disappeared, and Maryann settled Emma at a window table. “You can watch him from here. And, honey, won’t it be a glorious sight to behold? Nobody hits long irons like Kenny Traveler.”

Emma gave her a look that she hoped was friendly but reserved. She had no interest in watching Kenny Traveler hit long irons.

Until she saw him.

Although he still wore his tan shorts, he’d traded in his work boots for a pair of golf shoes, and the University of Texas T-shirt had been replaced by a dark brown golf shirt with another logo, although she was too far away to see which one. His muscles were fluid and graceful as he hit one shot after another. The balls flew off the tee, soaring so far that she couldn’t see them land. She wasn’t surprised by his grace, but the display of power coming from a man so fundamentally lazy left her feeling light-headed.

He was a complete mystery to her. She had the feeling that dark waters lurked beneath that lackadaisical exterior, but she had no idea how deep they ran or how far they flowed. She thought of what he’d said in the car earlier when he’d made it evident that he still wanted to go to bed with her.“What difference does it make whether I happen to be a professional gigolo or a professional golfer? I’ve got all the necessary equipment, and I’m happy to let you use it.”

But it did make a difference. She could somehow have respected herself if she’d bought his services, but she couldn’t respect herself if she became a groupie for a rich, professional athlete to regard with secret contempt.

All day she’d tried to avoid thinking about last night, but as she ate her grilled chicken sandwich and watched him hit one ball after another, his strength made her grow warm and restless. She forced herself to think logically. A tattoo and a change of wardrobe weren’t going to be enough to completely discourage Hugh Holroyd, merely give him second thoughts. She’d known all along she’d have to do something more dramatic. Take a lover? The idea had been nibbling away at her for some time. But not Kenny Traveler. After what had happened last night, that would now be immoral. She couldn’t exactly explain why; she only knew it was true. She needed to find someone else.

The thought depressed her so much she lost her appetite. Kenny Traveler wasn’t honest or trustworthy, but he certainly was sexy, and, despite her aversion to rogues, she wanted it to be with him.

She took a glum poke at her tuna sandwich, then signaled the waitress for a cup of tea she didn’t want. Anything to draw her attention away from the tantalizing figure on the driving range.

Kenny dropped her off at the hotel before he went back to his condo to change into what he called his “tattoo parlor clothes.” At seven-thirty, she headed down to the lobby to wait for him. When she arrived, she looked around for someone who might be a detective, but all she saw were businessmen and tourists.

Kenny came in through the revolving door. He wore a pair of navy slacks and a white polo shirt with a Dean Witter logo. She wondered if he owned any clothes that didn’t have a product endorsement on them.

As he caught sight of her, he froze. “What in Sam Hill did you do to yourself?”

“Who’s the Antichrist?”

“We’re not talking about that now; we’re talking about the fact that I dropped off Mary Poppins and I came back to find Madonna.” His gaze took in her new outfit, purchased at one of the mall’s inexpensive teen boutiques. The sleeveless black T-dress was perilously short and closely fitted, with a zip-neck. Unzipped. Or at least unzipped far enough to be noted in a memo to London.

“Really? You think I look like Madonna?”

“You don’t look anything like Madonna.” He lowered his voice to a growl that only she could hear. “What you look like is a nymphomaniac Mary Poppins. There wasn’t a single thing wrong with those clothes you had on today, and I want you to change right back into them.”

“Gracious, Kenny, you sound like an outraged father.”

His scowl grew more pronounced. “You’re happy about this, aren’t you? You’re happy to be walking around without leaving anything to the imagination.”

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Perhaps she’d gone too far. If a playboy like Kenny Traveler thought she was dressed too obviously, maybe she needed to be more subtle. She tugged the zipper all the way up. “There.”

He continued to regard her critically. “You’ve got makeup on.”

“I’ve had makeup on all day.”

“Not as much as you have on now.”

“It’s tastefully applied, and don’t try to tell me it’s not.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is—between what happened last night and your tattoo obsession and now this—I’m getting a real bad feeling. It’s one thing to want a little freedom on your summer vacation; it’s another to change into a different person. Suppose you tell me exactly what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Not a thing.”

He drew her off to the side, keeping his voice low. “Look, Emma. Let’s speak frankly here. You have an itch you want scratched—perfectly understandable—but you can’t let just anybody scratch it. Dressed like that, you’re pretty much putting yourself on the auction block.”

“Nonsense. You’re going to be with me all evening, aren’t you? How can anything happen?” She headed for the lobby doors.

“That’s not the point,” he said, coming up behind her. “Go change your clothes, then I’ll take you to a great Mexican restaurant for dinner.”

“Are you afraid that being seen with a fast-looking woman is going to ruin your reputation?”

“This is about you, not me.”

“I think I’ve made my point.” She smiled to show there were no hard feelings and headed for the parking lot. On her way, she began clipping three tiny sets of fake-pierced hoops behind the silver studs in her ear-lobes.

He came after her. “I’m not taking any responsibility for this. Next time you chat with Francesca, you make it real clear that I did everything I could to talk some sense into you.”

She waited until he was backing out of the handicapped spot. “Who’s the Antichrist?”

“A person who’s name I won’t speak.” He changed the subject. “How did your visit to the Historical Society go? Did you find out anything new about Lady Sarah?”

“More confirmation that she was an astute observer. Her account of the railroad celebration agrees with all the other sources, but she gives much more detail.”

He asked about the methods she used for her research, and she found herself talking all the way to the restaurant. When she saw where they were, she was embarrassed. “Sorry. Sometimes my enthusiasm runs away from me.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied, as they headed toward the front door. “I like history. And I like it when people enjoy their work. Too many poor slobs spend their lives doing things they hate.” He held the door open for her. “I’ll bet you were a good teacher before the fleshmongers got hold of you and turned you into a Head Mistress.”

She smiled. “I love the classroom. But being headmistress has its compensations.”

“All those furs and diamond bracelets.”

“St. Gert’s is a wonderful old place, but she needed to be modernized. I’ve loved the challenge.”

“She?”

“It’s hard to explain. The school has this wonderful personality, like a cozy old grandmother. St. Gert’s is very special.”

He regarded her curiously, then the hostess came up to them, greeted him by name, and led them to their table.