Part 9 (1/2)
The most surprising part of today, however, was how much she hadn't hated it. She should have detested working at a country club, but she loved being outside, even if she wasn't allowed to drive all over the course the way she wanted and had to stay parked at either the fifth or fourteenth tee. Not getting fired was a bonus.
Spence tried to sneak a surrept.i.tious look down the top she'd fas.h.i.+oned from one length of the rehearsal-dinner silk wrap she now wore with jeans. All evening, he'd been touching her, tracing a bone on her wrist, caressing her shoulder, the small of her back, feigning curiosity over her earrings as an excuse to rub her lobe. Ted had taken in every touch and, for the first time since they'd met, seemed happy she was around. Spence leaned in too close. ”Here's my dilemma, Miz Meg.”
She edged nearer Kenny, something she'd been doing all evening until she was practically in his lap. He seemed oblivious, apparently so used to women hitting on him that it no longer registered. But Ted was registering, and he wanted her to stay put, right where Skipjack could paw her. Since his easy smile never changed, she didn't know how she knew this, but she did, and the next time she got him alone, she intended to tell him to add ”pimp” to his big, impressive resume.
Spence toyed with her fingers. ”I'm looking at two sweet pieces of property-one on the outskirts of San Antone, a city that's a hotbed of commercial activity. The other in the middle of nowhere.”
Ted hated cat-and-mouse games. She knew because he leaned farther back in his chair, as unruffled as a man could be. ”The most beautiful part of nowhere anybody's ever seen,” he said.
And one they wanted to destroy with a hotel, condos, manicured fairways, and pristine greens.
”Don't forget there's a landing strip not twenty miles out of town.” Kenny fingered his cell.
”But not much else to speak of,” Spence said. ”No upscale boutiques for the ladies. No nightclubs or fine dining.”
Skeet scratched his jaw, his nails rasping over the graying stubble. ”I don't see that's much of a disadvantage. All it means is people'll spend more money at your resort.”
”When they're not coming into Wynette to get their fix of small-town Americana,” Ted said. ”The Roustabout, for example. This is the real thing-no phonied-up national franchise with ma.s.s-produced steer horns hanging on the wall. We all know how much rich people appreciate authenticity.”
An interesting observation coming from a multimillionaire. It occurred to her that everybody at this table was filthy rich except her. Even Skeet Cooper must have a couple of million tucked away from all the prize money he'd earned caddying for Dallie.
Spence curled his hand over Meg's wrist. ”Let's dance, Miz Meg. I need to work off my dinner.”
She didn't want to dance with him, and she extracted her hand with the excuse of reaching for her napkin. ”I don't understand exactly why you're so eager to build a resort. You're already the head of a big company. Why make your life more complicated?”
”Some things a man's destined to do.” It sounded like a line from one of her father's worst movies. ”You ever heard of a guy named Herb Kohler?”
”I don't think so.”
”Kohler Company. Plumbing. My biggest rival.”
She didn't pay much attention to bathroom fixtures, but even she'd heard of Kohler, and she nodded.
”Herb owns the American Club in Kohler, Wisconsin, along with four of the Midwest's best golf courses. Each room at the American Club is outfitted with the latest plumbing fixtures. There's even a plumbing museum. Every year the place is top ranked.”
”Herb Kohler's an important man,” Ted said with such a lack of guile that she nearly rolled her eyes. Was she the only person who saw through him? ”He sure has made himself a legend in the golfing world.”
And Spencer Skipjack wanted to outdo his rival. That's why building this resort was so important to him.
”It's too bad Herb didn't build his place somewhere people could play year-round,” Dallie said. ”Wisconsin's a d.a.m.n cold state.”
”The reason I was smart enough to choose Texas,” Skipjack said. ”I came down here a lot from Indiana when I was a kid to visit my mother's family. I've always felt at home in the Lone Star State. More Texan than Hoosier.” He turned his attention back to Meg. ”Wherever I build, you be sure and tell your father he's invited to play anytime as my guest.”
”I'll do that.” Her athletic father still loved basketball, and thanks to her mother, now rode horseback for pleasure, but she couldn't imagine him swinging a golf club.
She'd had separate phone conversations with both of her parents today, but instead of begging them to send money, she'd told them that she'd gotten a great job in hospitality at an important Texas country club. Although she didn't say she was the activities coordinator, neither did she correct her mother when she came to that conclusion and said how wonderful it was Meg had finally found a useful outlet for her natural creativity. Her dad was just happy she had a job.
She couldn't keep quiet about this any longer. ”Have any of you thought about leaving that land alone? I mean, does the world really need another golf course eating up more of our natural resources?”
Ted's frown was almost imperceptible. ”Recreational green s.p.a.ces keep people healthy.”
”d.a.m.n right they do,” Spence said before Meg could bring up the golfers and their Bud Light. ”Ted and I have talked a lot about that.” He pushed back his chair. ”Come on, Miz Meg. I like this song.”
Spence might have her arm, but Meg could have sworn she felt Ted's invisible hand shoving her to the dance floor.
Spence was a decent dancer, and the song was up tempo, so things started out all right. But when a ballad came on, he pulled her so close his belt buckle pressed against her, not to mention something more objectionable. ”I don't know what happened to make you fall on hard times.” Spence nuzzled her ear. ”But it looks like you could use somebody to watch out for you until you're back on your feet.”
She hoped he didn't mean what she thought he meant, but the evidence below his belt buckle seemed to indicate he did.
”Now I'm not talking about anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he said. ”Just the two of us spending some time together.”
She deliberately tripped over his foot. ”Oops. I need to sit down. I picked up a couple of blisters today.”
Spence didn't have any choice but to follow her back to the table. ”She can't keep up with me,” he grumbled.
”Not many people can, I'll bet,” Mayor Suck-up said.
Spence pulled his chair closer and draped his arm around her shoulders. ”I got a great idea, Miss Meg. Let's fly to Vegas tonight. You, too, Ted. Ring up a girlfriend and come with us. I'll call my pilot.”
He was so certain of their compliance that he reached for his cell, and since not one of the men at the table did anything to dissuade him, she realized she was on her own. ”Sorry, Spence. I have to work tomorrow.”
He winked at Ted. ”That's not much of a country club you work for, and I'll bet Ted could talk your boss into giving you a couple of days off. What do you think, Ted?”
”If he can't, I can,” Dallie said, tossing her to the wolves.
Kenny piled on. ”Let me do it. I'll be happy to make a call.”
Ted gazed at her over the top of his longneck, saying nothing. She stared right back, so angry her skin burned. She'd put up with a lot lately, but she wouldn't put up with this. ”The thing is ...” She bit off the syllables. ”I'm not exactly free. Emotionally.”
”How's that?” Spence asked.
”It's ... complicated.” She was starting to feel nauseated. Why couldn't life come with a pause b.u.t.ton? More than anything, that's what she needed right now, because without a chance to think this through, she was going to say the first thing that sprang into her mind, the stupidest thing, but again, no pause b.u.t.ton. ”Ted and me.”
Ted's beer bottle clinked against his teeth. Kenny perked up. Spence looked confused. ”This morning you said the two of you weren't a couple.”
She pinched her mouth into a smile. ”We're not,” she said. ”Yet. But I have hopes.” The word caught in her throat like a bone. She had just validated everything people believed about her motivation for stopping the wedding.
But Kenny kicked back in his chair, more amused than accusatory. ”Ted does this to women all the time. None of us can figure out how.”
”I sure can't.” Ted's father slanted her a peculiar look. ”Homeliest kid you ever saw.”
Ted ground his words around the edges of a lazy smile. ”It's not going to happen, Meg.”
”Time will tell.” Now that she saw how much she'd aggravated him, she warmed to the topic, despite its larger implications. ”I have a bad history of falling for the worst worst men.” She let that settle in for a moment. ”Not that Ted isn't perfect. A little too perfect, obviously, but ... attraction isn't always logical.” men.” She let that settle in for a moment. ”Not that Ted isn't perfect. A little too perfect, obviously, but ... attraction isn't always logical.”
Spence's heavy dark brows met in the middle. ”Wasn't it last month he was all ready to marry the president's daughter?”