Lady Be Good
Authors: Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Dear Reader,
Spending the past year living with proper British headmistress Lady Emma Wells-Finch and Texas golf pro Kenny Traveler has been an adventure. Please believe me when I tell you that—each morning as I sat down to write—I
never
knew what these two would be up to! All I could do was hang on for the ride. I found Emma and Kenny funny, vulnerable, and completely maddening!
Many of you will notice the reappearance of Dallie Beaudine and Francesca Day Beaudine from my 1989 novel
Fancy Pants
. Getting reacquainted with these old lovers was a special joy, even though Dallie and Francesca make Kenny and Lady Emma’s lives so much more difficult!
I hope these characters who’ve become so dear to me bring you pleasure. Happy reading!
The community of those of us who write women’s fiction and romance is a tightly knit one. We support each other as well as our dynamic industry. As testimony, here are the special writers who helped guide me through this book and to whom I owe my gratitude.
Jill Barnett, always there for me. Stella Cameron, my prime consultant on “Brit speak.” Kristin Hannah, the best “title brainstormer” in the business. Jayne Ann Krentz, simply put—a goddess. Jill Marie Landis, who attended a very special race with me and said, “You have to write about this.” Cathie Linz and Lindsay Longford, my frequent touching stones and stimulating companions on “Dinner Nights Out.” Elizabeth Lowell, who is—I swear—a living encyclopedia. Meryl Sawyer, always generous and supportive to both me and our entire genre. Thank you all!
In addition, I continue to be proud to be part of the great romance tradition at Avon Books. Special thanks to Carrie Feron and everyone else at this wonderful publishing house who get my books on the shelves.
Once again, my husband, Bill, has served as my literary golf consultant and personal golf coach. He succeeds admirably at one of those jobs.
Thanks to Steve Axelrod, and to my readers who write me such lovely letters. My special gratitude to all the booksellers who’ve called my novels to the attention of their customers. Your personal touch is deeply appreciated.
Susan Elizabeth Phillips
c/o Avon Books, Inc.
1350 Avenue of the Americas
New York, New York 10019
Kenny Traveler was lazy. That explained why he’d fallen . . .
“This isn’t a hotel.” Emma had dozed off, but now she was . . .
Emma had bought sex. She still couldn’t believe what she’d done.
Emma didn’t remember picking up the magazine, but it was . . .
As Emma walked into the hotel lobby toward Kenny, she saw . . .
The restaurant had been built in a rambling old house with . . .
“Surely your sister exaggerated,” Emma said. “Your mother . . .
Emma ate by herself that night. After announcing that Kenny . . .
Even though she knew she should put her time to better . . .
Kenny was scrupulously polite that evening as he drove to . . .
It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and the lights were still on . . .
Emma was fuming by the time she’d finished breakfast.
“Kenny . . .” Emma’s blurred senses made it difficult to . . .
Emma stood just outside the barrier around the petting zoo . . .
Kenny couldn’t breathe as the ghosts of his past crashed . . .
Afterward, Emma was glad of the activity, all the . . .
As Emma walked next to Kenny along the less populated part . . .
Emma froze. “A duke?” Kenny said. “The Duke of . . .
Emma’s cheeks flamed. But she locked one arm around . . .
It didn’t take Kenny long to collar one of the airline . . .
Kenny couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep, but one minute . . .
On the plane, Kenny buried himself in a book he’d . . .
The morning sun formed a corona behind him, this man . . .
As Kenny saw the stricken expres-sion on her face, he realized . . .
1
K
enny Traveler was lazy. That explained why he’d
fallen asleep in TWA’s Ambassador Club at Dallas–Fort Worth Airport instead of promptly meeting British Airways Flight 2193 at the gate. Pure laziness, plus the fact that he didn’t want to meet Flight 2193.
Unfortunately, the entrance of a noisy pair of businessmen awakened him. He took his time stretching, then yawned for a while. A nice-looking woman in a short gray suit smiled at him, and he smiled back. He glanced at his watch and saw he was half an hour late. He yawned again. Stretched.
“Excuse me,” the woman said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but . . . you look so familiar. Aren’t you—”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.” He tilted his Stetson and gave her a grin that still had a little yawn clinging to the edges. “And I’m flattered you recognize me outside the rodeo ring. Most people don’t.”
She looked confused. “Rodeo? I’m sorry. I thought you were . . . You look so much like Kenny Traveler, the pro golfer.”
“Golfer? Me? Oh, no, ma’am. I’m way too young to play an old man’s game like golf. I like real sports.”
“But—”
“Rodeo. Now that’s a real sport. Football, too, and basketball.” He slowly unfolded all six feet two inches of himself from the chair. “When it comes to tennis, though, that’s when things start getting iffy. And golf isn’t something a real man wants to get too close to.”
The gray suit hadn’t been born yesterday, and she smiled. “Still, I seem to remember watching you win the AT&T and the Buick Invitational on TV this winter. I swear I thought Tiger was going to break into tears during that last round at Torrey Pines.” Her smile faded. “I still can’t believe that Commissioner Beau—”
“I’d appreciate it, ma’am, if you didn’t speak the name of the Antichrist in front of me.”
“Sorry. How long do you think your suspension’ll last?”
Kenny glanced down at his gold Rolex. “I guess that might depend on how long it takes me to get to British Airways?”
“Pardon?”
“Real nice talkin’ to you, ma’am.” He tipped his Stetson and ambled from the lounge.
One of his unhappy ex-girlfriends had pointed out that Kenny’s
amble
was really the closest thing he had to a full-out run. But Kenny’d never seen much point in wasting energy anyplace but on the golf course. He liked to take things slow and easy, although lately that had been tough.
He ambled past the newsstand, refusing to look at the newspapers that were carrying the story of his recent suspension by acting PGA Commissioner Dallas Fremont Beaudine, a suspension that was taking place in the middle of the hottest winning streak in the history of professional golf and was going to keep him from playing in the Masters less than two weeks away.
