mma ate by herself that night. After announcing thatKenny had gone off to practice, Patrick served her a delicious pasta salad, along with fresh green beans drizzled with olive oil and garlic, a crusty French roll, and a thick wedge of blueberry tart for dessert. She ate on the sun porch, which was furnished in shiny black rattan covered in a crisp green and white awning stripe. More flowers overflowed from a collection of rustic vases sitting on antique tables. Behind the house, a grove of pecans grew, while a patio and swimming pool sat off to one side, and the white-fenced pasture where the horses grazed stretched in the distance. Earlier she had taken a walk along the river to enjoy the wildflowers.

Despite the peaceful atmosphere and the scented air blowing in through the screen door, she felt restless. Why hadn’t Kenny returned? Even though she’d told him she’d stay out of his way, she wished he didn’t find her presence so unpleasant.

Patrick refused her offer to help with cleanup, so she spread out her research notes and worked for a while as it grew dark. Bugs, attracted by the lights on the porch, slammed into the screen, while crickets sawed away. She heard the quiet hum of the dishwasher, the call of a night bird. The peacefulness reminded her of St. Gert’s after the girls were asleep.

Her spirits dipped lower. At this rate, she would return to England with her reputation more intact than ever. She saw Patrick crossing the lawn toward the small apartment he’d told her he maintained above the garage. Impulsively, she called out, “Do you have Torie’s number posted somewhere?”

“There’s a list on the side of the refrigerator.”

A few moments later, she had Kenny’s sister on the phone.

“No, I don’t have any plans,” Torie said after Emma explained what she wanted. “But I don’t think Wynette’s bars will exactly suit your taste.”

“What’s the fun of going on holiday if I don’t try new things?”

“Well, all right. If you’re sure about this, I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”

Emma dressed in the pair of dungarees she’d bought the day before along with a stretchy white bubble-knit just short enough to reveal a thin band of skin at her waist and just tight enough to emphasize her breasts. Although the short sleeves hid most of the Lone Star tattoo, they revealed the banner bearing Kenny’s name. Humiliating, but necessary, she decided, and vowed not to look in the mirror. She only hoped Beddington’s henchman was bright enough to bring along a camera.

Torie picked her up in a dark blue BMW, which she drove at an alarming rate of speed. Emma closed her eyes and clutched the armrest.

“You look nervous.”

“I’m not good in cars.”

“That makes life hard, especially in Texas.” Torie slowed down.

“It rather does everywhere.”

Now that they weren’t moving so fast, Emma took a moment to study her companion. Torie wore a turquoise body suit with fitted black jeans that displayed a pair of endlessly long legs. A concho belt glimmered at her waist, and Mexican silver earrings swayed from her lobes. She looked rich, lovely, and wild. Not for an instant would Beddington ever have considered making Torie Traveler his wife.

Torie glanced in the rearview mirror. “You really should learn to drive.”

“Uhmm...”

“Really. I could teach you.”

“That’s lovely of you, but I don’t think so.”

“The devil’s got quite a grip on you, doesn’t he?”

“I suppose so.”

“I guess I know what that’s like.”

Emma heard sadness in her voice, and something told her that a marriage to Dexter O’Conner wasn’t all that bothered Torie. Her breezy manner and spoiled, rich-girl demeanor camouflaged a great deal of pain.

“Are you getting along all right with Patrick?” she asked. “He’s pretty protective of Kenny, and he can be funny about people.”

“He was very helpful,” Emma replied.

Torie laughed. “It drives Daddy crazy having an openly gay man living at the ranch with his only son. But everybody knows Patrick’s the best housekeeper in the county, and, if you ask me, the day Kenny rescued him was lucky for both of them.”

“How did he rescue him?”

“Patrick was driving around taking photographs for this coffee table book he wants to do on out-of-the way roadhouses. Stopped at a place near the limestone quarry and ran into a bunch of rednecks who decided to prove their masculinity by beating the crap out of him. Four against one. Kenny came along just in time. He can’t stand stuff like that. It about drives him crazy.”

“What did he do?”

“Let’s just say that Kenny doesn’t lose his temper too often, but when he does, it’s a wondrous sight. He ended up taking Patrick back to his house to recover, and he got up the next morning just in time to see a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls coming out of the oven. Kenny took one whiff and hired Patrick on the spot. There’s been a ton of gossip about it, not to mention all the trouble Kenny got into with the PGA when the road-house fight made the papers.”

“He did the right thing.”

“I think so. Still, he got criticized. I swear, if you listen to the locals, the only thing Kenny can do right is win tournaments.”

“People don’t like him? That surprises me.”

“Oh, no. They love him. Everybody knows he’s done more good for this community than all the rest of us put together. He’s built a community center and provided the seed money for the new library—a whole bunch of things like that. And he lends his name to every good cause that comes along. But giving Kenny a hard time has been this town’s favorite leisure activity for so long that nobody thinks twice about it.”

“How so?”

“People have long memories, and they’re still holding a few grudges from his misbegotten childhood. Nobody yet has broken his record for the most suspensions from high school. And the retired police chief can tell you stories that’d make your hair stand on end. Seems everybody has a grudge. Judy Weber won’t let him forget that he copied off her arithmetic quiz in fourth grade, then convinced the substitute that she was the one cheating. He stole a Hank Aaron baseball card from Bob Frazier in sixth grade, then tore it up. He took kids’ lunch money, broke their toys, dumped girlfriends right and left, and pretty much cut a wide path of destruction wherever he went until Dallie Beaudine finally took him in hand after Mother died.”

So Dallie Beaudine was the mysterious person Kenny had referred to earlier that day. Obviously Kenny’s relationship with Francesca’s husband was far more complex than she’d guessed. “Still, he’s apparently been a model citizen since his late teens. It seems that people should let bygones be bygones.”

“Kenny doesn’t mind getting teased. And he might be a model citizen, but he sure has some big character flaws. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s lazy.”

“I did notice,” Emma said dryly. “Still, laziness isn’t a major crime.”

“Sometimes it is with him. He just—I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. He just doesn’t care about anything but golf. That’s how his bloodsucker business manager siphoned off so much of his money. Kenny never bothered to check up on him.”

Emma remembered the matter-of-fact way he’d described the child he’d been, without displaying a morsel of sympathy for the circumstances that had led to his misbehavior. While she didn’t believe that adults should use a dysfunctional childhood as an excuse for not getting on with their lives, she’d also seen a great deal of parental incompetence in her career and she didn’t think anyone should continue to do penance for it. Yet that seemed to be what Kenny was doing.

“He distances himself from everything but golf,” Torie went on. “Especially women. He’s treated every girl-friend he’s had like a queen—buys her expensive presents, sends her flowers—but the minute she starts getting her hopes up that the relationship’s permanent, he vanishes.”

Emma realized Torie was issuing a subtle warning, but she said nothing.

Torie continued, “Everybody in the world wants to be Kenny’s best friend, but I’m the only one he lets get halfway close. I never knew a man so determined to hold himself apart from other people. I guess he’s afraid if he starts caring too much about anybody, they’ll manipulate him like our mother did. Manhood didn’t come easy to Kenny, and he’s sure not going to let anything threaten it.”

“It’s ironic that someone with so much natural charm is fundamentally a loner.”

“He’s the friendliest man in the world, until somebody either pisses him off or tries to get inside his head. Then he uses that charm to isolate himself. Or he acts dumb. About drives me crazy when he does that, since he’s the smartest man I know. My brother goes through books like most people go through potato chips.

Torie fell silent. Emma considered simply telling Kenny’s sister that she had no intention of getting personally involved with her brother, but she didn’t want to make herself look foolish.

“It’s strange,” Torie said. “Unlike Kenny, my second ex-husband had a picture-perfect childhood, but he turned into an immoral slimeball. You just never know with people.”

“How long have you been divorced?”

“A year, but we were separated for a while before that. Tommy was a womanizer. Daddy warned me not to marry him, but I wouldn’t listen.” A deeply unhappy expression crossed her face. “Maybe if I’d been able to have a baby, Tommy would have settled down, but it didn’t happen.”

“I doubt that a baby would have kept him faithful.”

“I know you’re right. Still, it’s hard being a two-time loser.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “My first husband was a college romance gone bad. He drank, and when he drank, he’d go on these crying jags, then he’d bust up our apartment. It didn’t last a year.” She reached for the radio. “Daddy says I can’t be trusted when it comes to men, which is why he wants me to marry Dexter. But I don’t—” She looked into the rearview mirror, and her hand stalled on the radio buttons as she frowned. “That sonovabitch has been tailing me ever since we left Kenny’s ranch. I swear he was parked there waiting for me.”

“Really!” Emma twisted around to look and saw a dark green Taurus. “Do you think he’s following us?”

“Could be.”

Emma’s mouth went dry. Beddington’s watchdog was on the job.

Wynette, Texas, was a charming old town with a shady square at its center and a prosperous, downtown shopping area that hadn’t been forced out of business by a mall. Since Kenny had bypassed Wynette when he’d driven to his ranch, this was Emma’s first chance to see the town, and Torie took her on a tour that ended up at a honky-tonk called the Roustabout. A green Taurus stayed with them all the way.

As they went inside, Emma kept trying to look over her shoulder to see who might follow them.

“This is where everybody in town hangs out,” Torie said. “It’s been here for years.”

Unlike the cozy pubs in Lower Tilbey, the Roustabout was a vast, open room, with a square wooden bar in the middle. Emma saw two pool tables, a row of video games, and a small dance floor with a jukebox blaring out country music. Although it was a weeknight, most of the tables were occupied, as were the booths that ran along one wall.

Once again, Emma glanced over her shoulder, and this time she saw a beefy man in a floral sport shirt coming through the door. The skin on the back of her neck prickled as he began to stare at her, and her heart beat faster. Was he Hugh’s spy? Was he the man who’d been driving the green Taurus?

Torie moved ahead of her toward the bar, lifted one hand to her mouth, then let out a shrill whistle. “Listen up, y’all.”

Although the jukebox continued to play, the conversation died as everyone regarded her with interest.

“This is Lady Emma,” Torie announced. “Kenny’s showing her around for a few days. She’s from England. She also happens to be a real, live aristocrat, despite that tattoo on her arm. Lady Emma, say a few words to these rednecks, so they’ll know you’re for real.”

“I’m delighted to meet all of you,” Emma said self-consciously. She tried to hunch her shoulders just enough for her sleeve to drop lower, but it didn’t move, and several people’s eyes lingered on her tattoo. Even so, her British accent seemed to impress them.

Torie took Emma’s arm and turned her to the bar. “Joey, give me a glass of Chardonnay, will you? What would you like, Lady Emma?”

“Gin and tonic, please.” Emma didn’t like gin and tonic—not like she liked margaritas—but she wanted everyone to see her drinking. At the same time, she had a permanent reminder emblazoned on her upper arm of her need to stay sober, so she made up her mind to dump the drink and substitute water as soon as she got the chance. No one would be the wiser.

The bartender served their drinks, and a number of the bar’s patrons came up for personal introductions, which Torie provided. One man suggested she lock away her valuables before Kenny stole them, and a woman said not ever to let him turn a jump rope for her because he’d trip her sure as anything. Both comments were greeted with knowing chuckles from the crowd.

Eventually, Torie led her toward a table in one corner where a young male who looked to be in his early twenties sat by himself sipping a beer. As they approached, Emma wondered if there was something in the Wynette water supply that produced such good-looking people. First Kenny, then Torie, and now this young man. He had crisp auburn hair and strong features that included high cheekbones and a square, solid jaw. His shoulders were broad, his body slim but hard-muscled.

“Hey, Ted. How you doin’?” Torie took a seat at the table without waiting for an invitation, then gestured toward the empty chair on the other side for Emma.

“Can’t complain. How about you?”

“Same old. Same old. This is Lady Emma.”

As Emma nodded, the man named Ted glanced at her tattoo, then gave her a lazy, meandering smile that made her wish she were ten years younger. “Ma’am.”

“He’s only twenty-two,” Torie said, as if she were reading Emma’s mind. “Isn’t that a major crime for us older women?”

Ted smiled and ducked his head to study his beer bottle.

“You seen Kenny?” Torie asked.

“He was here a minute ago.”

The fact that Kenny had gone out on the town without inviting her was annoying. Apparently she was going to have to drop Francesca’s name again to remind him who was in charge.

As if she’d conjured him, Kenny came ambling across the room. He had a beer bottle in one hand and a golf club swinging loosely from the other. He tossed it to the bartender, who tucked it away.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he saw Emma, then he looked at Ted. “The next lesson in the alley’s on you. Randy Ames keeps wanting me to fix his slice, but he won’t do a thing I tell him. Maybe you’ll have more luck.”

“Are you a golfer, too?” Emma asked Ted, deliberately ignoring Kenny as he took the chair next to her.

“I’ve been known to play a little.” Although Ted phrased his sentences like a Texan, he didn’t have any drawl. Curious.

Kenny snorted. “Ted here was the top amateur in the state three years running. Second best golfer UT’s ever had play for them.”

“There’s some debate about that.” Torie shot her brother a sly look. “Ted did manage to win three NCAA individual titles, instead of somebody I could mention who only won two. Plus, Ted also managed to graduate, something else a certain person I could mention seems to have neglected.”

“College is hard.” Kenny scratched his chest. “And the debate over who’s the best is resolved as far as I’m concerned.” He regarded Ted smugly. “Only one of us had the guts to turn pro.”

Ted smiled his shy smile.

Torie turned to Emma. “See, Ted’s this egghead genius, so all his life he’s been torn between golf and nerd stuff. Around here people consider him sort of a genetic freak. Even his own parents.”

Instead of taking offense, Ted nodded. “That’s so.”

“He’s just finished his bachelor’s and master’s degrees at the same time.” Kenny’s pride was visible, and Emma could see there was something special about the relationship between these two men. “Playing varsity golf slowed down his academic career or he’d have finished up a lot earlier.”

“Didn’t see any need to hurry.”

“Exactly what I told you,” Kenny said with satisfaction.

Emma pretended to sip from her drink as the three of them chatted with the ease of people who’d known each other for a long time. It was Torie who introduced the subject of Kenny’s suspension. “It’s so unfair,” she said. “Anybody who knows Kenny knows he wouldn’t hit a woman on purpose. He’ll drive ’em crazy and screw around on ’em, but he won’t hit them.”

Kenny looked aggravated. “That’s not why I was originally suspended, and I never screwed around on a woman I cared about in my life, at least not since I was sixteen.” He glanced over at Ted. “I swear, somebody needs to swat her.”

“Don’t look at me. I’m scared of her.”

Torie leaned over and kissed Ted’s cheek. “If you were just a couple years older, sonny boy, I’d show you the time of your life.”

“I doubt I’d survive it.”

“You ask me,” Kenny said, “the Antichrist is going through some kind of midlife crisis. Sonovabitch turns fifty this year. I think it’s twisted his mind.”

Ted tilted his chair back and stretched out his legs. “He’s just pissed off at you is all.”

“Abuse of power,” Kenny grumbled. “Thinks he’s the damned President of the United States.”

Ted smiled.

“I’m serious,” Kenny went on. “Everybody who belongs to the PGA expects the commissioner to be fair. Even though he only has the job temporarily, he should at least pretend to be impartial.”

At that moment, Emma spotted the man in the floral shirt who’d followed them into the bar and realized he was watching her quite closely from across the room. A rush of excitement went through her. He really was Beddington’s watchdog!

She knew she had to make the most of the moment, but all she could think to do was grab her gin and tonic and take a healthy slug. As a scandalous act, it was fairly pathetic, but she couldn’t think of anything else. And then another idea occurred to her, although she didn’t want to do it. Still, she wanted to be married to Hugh even less.

Steeling herself, she rose out of her chair, looped her arm around Kenny’s neck, and planted herself in his lap.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Have I missed something?”

She curled her mouth into what she hoped was a seductive smile and tried to speak without moving her lips. “Kiss me at once.”

“No,” he said indignantly.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like your attitude.”

She had been a bit bossy, but that was only because she was nervous. “I apologize.”

His eyes settled on her mouth. “Okay, I’ll kiss you.”

The burly man turned away, and she immediately ejected from Kenny’s lap.

He frowned at her as she grabbed for her gin and tonic. “Are you drunk again?”

“Certainly not.”

“Good. Because Wynette doesn’t have even a halfway decent tattoo parlor.”

The burly man had moved over near the jukebox, but he was still watching her. He was balding, with straw-colored hair and prominent jowls. Thinking hard, she looked over at Ted. “Would you mind very much dancing with me?” Beddington definitely wouldn’t like her dancing with anyone, let alone an obviously younger man.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Ted replied.

“He’s a terrible dancer,” Torie said. “You want somebody good, you get out on the floor with Kenny.”

Ted looked injured. “She askedme to dance, not John Travolta here.”

Torie shrugged. “It’s your feet, Lady Emma.”

Although Emma didn’t look at Kenny, she sensed his eyes on her as she got up from the table. Ted took her hand and led her toward the floor, where a ballad was playing. As they began to dance, she experienced the unusual sensation of being led around a dance floor by a sexy young man.Very young, she reminded herself.

And very sexy.

He smiled down at her and asked how she liked Texas.

She smiled back and said she loved it. He wanted to know if she’d enjoyed the ride in from Dallas and what she thought of the United States. They chatted easily.

The song ended, and a fast tune began to play. The crowd reshuffled and started performing a line dance. “Maybe I’d better sit this one out.”

“I’ll show you the steps,” Ted said. “Torie’s right. I’m not much of a dancer, but this one’s pretty easy.” He led her to the side, and she caught on quickly as he demonstrated.

As soon as they were back on the dance floor, she spotted Kenny and Torie dancing together. With their gleaming dark hair and easy grace, they moved like mirror images of each other. Kenny laughed at something one of the women passing by said to him. Torie flirted with an older man wearing a cowboy hat. They looked beautiful, rich, and a little jaded. Emma thought of Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan transplanted to a Texas honky-tonk.

The music slowed. Emma turned to go back to the table only to have Ted tug on her hand. “One more, Lady Emma. I like dancing with you. I always appreciate it when the lady leads.”

She laughed and slid back into his arms. It was nice being with someone who enjoyed her company. But they’d barely begun to dance before Kenny tapped Ted on the shoulder. “I’m taking over, little boy, so you go on back to the table and let Torie fight with you.”

“I don’t want to fight with Torie,” Ted said mildly. “I’m enjoying myself with Lady Emma.”

“And I’m real sure she’s enjoying herself with you, but right now, I’m suggesting you move aside.”

Emma felt a prickle of alarm as Ted gave Kenny a long hard assessment that suddenly made him look much older than his twenty-two years. “You and I are overdue for a reckoning.”

“Just name the time.”

“Seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“You’re on.”

Emma held up her hands. “Stop this at once!”

Kenny frowned. “Stop what?”

“Threatening each other! You’re acting like children.”

“We’re not threatening. We’re playing golf.”

“I’llbe playing golf,” Ted said. “It remains to be seen what John Travolta here’ll be doing.” He gave Emma a slow smile and walked away.

As Emma watched him disappear, she actually felt weak-kneed for a moment. If Ted was this bone-melting at twenty-two, what would he be like in another ten years?

Kenny took her in his arms, and she got weak-kneed all over again. Her instinctive attraction to him irritated her.

“You just put your eyeballs right back in your head, Lady Emma.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re mentally screening candidates to put an end to your you-know-what. Your virginity,” he added, in case she’d missed the point. “And my little pal there just moved to the top of your list.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s much too young.” She couldn’t resist adding, “But very sexy.”

“Yeah, well, take if from me... your friend Francesca won’t like it too much if you try to seduce her baby boy.”

She stumbled. “Her baby boy?”

He led her back into the dance steps. “Not to mention what the Antichrist might have to say about it. He has a lot of pride in that son of his.”

“He’s their son?” She blinked her eyes. “Oh, my... she always refers to him as Teddy. I never thought...”

“Theodore Day Beaudine. The only child of Francesca and you-know-who.”

“I got the impression that her son was much younger, still a child. I never thought...”

“Well, start thinking now, Mrs. Robinson, because he’s definitely not a child, and he’s off-limits to you.”

“I wasn’t really planning to seduce him. He’s young enough to have been one of my students. How could you think such an awful thing?”

“Do I have to remind you of a certain unfortunate incident two nights ago?”

“That was different. I intended topay you.”

He chuckled, then moved his hand on her back. She felt his finger slide along the small band of skin between her top and the waistband of her jeans. She couldn’t tell if it was accidental or not, and she gave an involuntary shiver.

His voice deepened a notch. “Until this minute, it never occurred to me that you might be so desperate for sex you’d actually prey on one of our town’s innocent children.”

“He’s hardly—”

“I may have to abandon my principles and go to bed with you after all.”

She stumbled again, and he lifted one dark eyebrow. “Although, to be honest about it, I don’t know if I’m up to all the work involved in having sex with a you-know-what. Still, I guess there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to sacrifice himself for the greater good of the community.”

She deliberately stepped on his foot. “Sorry.”

“You did that on purpose!”

“I most certainly did not.”

For a moment he said nothing, then he gave a long, put-upon sigh. At the same time, he slipped his thumb beneath the hem of her top. “All right, you win. I’ll let you mess around with me.”

Even though she knew he was teasing, she felt this funny quiver in her middle. Then she thought about picking up a beer pitcher from one of the tables and pouring it over his head. How had so much arrogance gotten packaged in one man? “Thanks, but I couldn’t put you to the trouble.”

He drew her closer so her breasts snuggled against his chest. “Not much trouble. I’ll just lie there and let you do all the work. You’d probably like that best anyway.”

Before she could come up with a response, he stopped dancing. “Uh-oh. Just when you think it’s safe to go back in the water...”

Emma looked up and spotted a rather disheveled man in his early thirties wearing chinos, a rumpled blue oxford cloth shirt, and wire-rimmed glasses approach the table where Torie sat with Ted. Ted immediately rose and held out his hand, obviously pleased.

Torie, however, wasn’t. Her spine straightened, and she shot him a look of pure venom.

“That’s Dexter O’Conner,” Kenny said. “The heir to Com National, Torie’s intended, and the biggest nerd in Wynette, Texas. Most of the time Ted’s the only person in the entire county who has any idea what he’s talking about.”

Dexter O’Conner reminded her of Jeremy Fox. They both had that same pleasantly untidy look, although this man was taller and thinner. His bony scholar’s face was a bit long, but still attractive. He had a wide, intelligent brow, well-spaced eyes, and shaggy brown hair. It didn’t take Emma more than a few seconds to realize that Dexter O’Conner was exactly the kind of man who had always appealed to her.

Kenny let her go. “We’d better get over there before Torie takes too big a bite out of him and lets the poor sonovabitch bleed to death.” He approached the table like the masked avenger. “What the hell are you doing here, O’Conner?”

“Dex came here to meetme, ” Ted said. “You and Torie are the damned interlopers, so go away. Lady Emma, you can stay.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Ted introduced her, and Dexter O’Conner acknowledged her presence with a brief, level-eyed survey, then a courteous nod. There was something about his manner that made her warm to him. He pulled off his wire-rims, revealing a very nice pair of gray eyes, and extracted a handkerchief from his pocket to polish them.

“As a matter of fact, I’d like Victoria and Kenny to stay, too. As long as we’re all here, I think it would behoove us to reach some sort of understanding.”

“You hear that, Kenny?Behoove. He talks like he’s inhaled a damned dictionary. And, I swear to God, Dexter, the next time you call me Victoria, I’m going to body slam you.”

“I doubt that would be possible.” He slipped his glasses back on. “I’m quite a bit bigger.”

Torie slumped forward and caught her forehead in her hands. “Jesus... you are such a dork.”

“He’s a smart dork,” Ted pointed out. “And unlike you, Dex has actuallyearned his share of the family money.”

“Shut up, you little putz.” Torie reached for her cigarettes only to have Dex take them from her hands.

“I really don’t like seeing you smoking, Victoria.”

“That does it!” With a growl, she sprang to her feet and lunged for his throat.

Kenny caught her around the waist just before she struck. “Settle down, now. You know how you hate it when you get blood on your clothes.” He shot Dexter a warning glare as Torie struggled in his arms. “You’d better get out of here, Dex. I don’t know how much longer I can hold her.”

“I see no reason to leave,” Dex said. “I have something to discuss with her. You’re welcome to listen.”

As Torie’s growls of outrage grew louder, Ted rose. “You’re right, Kenny. Somebody needs to swat her. I’ll take her away till she cools down.” He sighed. “Even though I don’t want to.” He grabbed Torie by the waist, just under Kenny’s arm, and yanked. “Let’s go play Foosball. And this time, let me win!”

Torie shot Dexter a venomous look as Ted dragged her away.

Emma observed Dexter with interest. She’d known Texas would be fascinating, but she hadn’t expected to find herself thrown into the middle of such an absorbing drama. This was like a rerun ofDallas, except with much nicer people. Well, nicer except for Kenny Traveler.

Just then, she spotted the burly man watching them and felt a thrill of anticipation. Beddington would hate having her involved in this kind of public scene.

Kenny took a seat. “I’d advise you not to hang out in any dark alleys, Dex. She doesn’t fight like a girl.”

“As I’m sure both of her ex-husbands discovered.” Dexter settled in the chair Torie had abandoned. “I’m not afraid of your sister, Kenny. I thought you’d realize that. She, of course, is terrified of me.”

Kenny grinned and shook his head. “Whatever you want to believe.”

Dex looked resigned. “I should have expected this.” He turned to Emma. “How long have you known Victoria, Lady Emma?”

“Just Emma. I only met her this morning.”

“I suppose that’s too little time for you to have any influence with her. It’s unfortunate. You seem quite level-headed.”

Kenny shot out his hand. “Now, Lady Emma, level-headed isn’t the same as being conservative, so keep your clothes on.”

“I had no intention of taking them off.”

Dex studied her more closely.

“Why don’t you just leave Torie alone?” Kenny said.

“It’s not that simple. Remember that our fathers are involved.”

“If you had any balls, Dex, you’d tell both of them to go to hell instead of letting them torture Torie like this.”

He gave Kenny a long, inscrutable look. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at your reaction.” With a shrug, he rose. “I’ll talk with Ted later. It’s been very nice meeting you, Emma. I look forward to seeing you again soon.” He nodded at Kenny and, without so much as a glance toward the Foosball game, headed for the door of the Roustabout.

“Coldhearted sonovabitch.”

“I found him very pleasant,” Emma said.

“It figures you’d like him. He’s just your type.”

“Quite.”

“Is that a gleam of speculation I see in your eye?”

When she didn’t reply, he frowned. “First you’re after a little boy. Now you’ve got Dex sighted through the crosshairs. Nobody could ever say you’re particular.”

She wasn’t going to let him bait her. “Desperate women can’t be particular.”

“I guess I’d better dance with you, then.” He spoke just begrudgingly enough to let her know he was doing her a favor.

“Oh, no.” She gave him a pleasant smile. “It would require far too much effort on your part.”

That made him so mad his teeth started to itch. Damn, but there was something about this woman that rubbed him wrong. He’d wanted to get away from her tonight, but then she’d shown up here. The worst thing was that part of him had been glad to see her, which was why he hadn’t behaved too well, because he didn’t want to be glad to see the virgin head mistress.

She made no secret of the fact that she disapproved of him, and he didn’t like the notion that he was nothing more than a sexual convenience, even though he felt the same way about her. Or at least he thought he did.

He wasn’t used to being confused about a woman, and his thoughts returned to the person who’d put him in this position in the first place. If it weren’t for Francesca, he might be able to talk Emma into a discreet fling. The two of them could use each other, then forget about it. But Dallie’s wife had more ways of finding out other people’s private business than anybody he knew, and she’d never forgive him if she thought he’d taken advantage of her friend. It also wouldn’t be the slightest use telling her that Lady Emma had started the whole thing when she’d tried to buy his body.

He felt claustrophobic, as if he were being forced into a small, windowless room with no exit. Lady Emma was too bossy, too difficult, one of those women who could run right over the top of a man, beating on him with her demands until he’d been flattened like a cartoon coyote. Frustrated, he pulled her to her feet and led her, none too gently, back to the dance floor, where it didn’t take more than a few seconds for his temper to bubble up again.

“Stop trying to lead!”

“Then move faster.”

“It’s a ballad.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to fall asleep.”

“I’m not falling asleep! I swear...” But whatever he’d been about to swear slipped from his mind as her hair brushed the bottom of his chin.

For a moment he could have sworn he smelled violets, which was very peculiar, since he had no idea what violets smelled like, except somehow he knew they smelled just like Lady Emma.