Lady Be Good (46 page)

His kiss was a promise from a man who didn’t make promises lightly. It was also a covenant that joined them forever, and she understood that he was giving himself to her in every way he knew how. In his kiss, she tasted all their tomorrows, saw their children, felt his passion and tenderness. She was being offered everything she’d dreamed of having but had given up believing could be hers.

They finally separated, if only to breathe.

“First he half drowns her,” Shelby drawled, “then he kisses her. You’ve got strange ways with women, Kenny.”

They both looked up to see that the entire family as well as the Beaudines had gathered around the pool to watch them.

“At least he didn’t spank her,” Torie said.

Dex wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled.

Kenny gazed up at them with a mixture of annoyance and affection, and Emma realized she felt that same blend of emotions herself. They were so nosy, and so caring. Well, she’d always wanted a family, and it seemed she’d finally been given one.

“Would it be asking too much to have a little privacy?” Kenny growled.

“Not a good idea,” Torie said. “If we leave you alone with her for much longer, you’ll just screw everything up again.”

Emma decided it was time to take her stand. “That’s quite enough, Torie.” With a great deal of reluctance, she detached herself from her husband and headed for the ladder.

“I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, Lady E,” Torie said as Emma climbed out onto the deck.

“No, you’re not. You’re baiting your brother.”

Kenny had climbed out behind her, and she shot him a warning glance, reminding him of their agreement. Then she returned her attention to his family.

“I want everyone to listen to me because I only plan to say this once. Kenny is a highly intelligent, extremely talented man. And contrary to public opinion, he is neither spoiled, lazy, nor incompetent. Am I making myself understood?”

They all stared at her. All of them except Dallie Beaudine, who tucked one hand in his pocket and smiled.

“Let me be even clearer,” Emma went on. “Kenny and I plan to have children, and I’ve no intention of allowing them to grow up listening to stories of their father’s youthful misdeeds. I am counting on every one of you to make that extremely clear to the good citizens of Wynette. To be more specific, if I hear another story from anyone in this family . . . or in this town . . . about Minnie Mouse cookies, stolen lunch money, school suspensions, miscellaneous property damage, or any other escapade I’ve yet to learn about, I will make certain that all of those dollars Kenny is pumping into local charities instantly dry up.” She lifted her hand and snapped her fingers. “Just like that.” She turned to Kenny, hoping he’d understand that enough was enough, and this simply had to be done. “So I don’t recommend any of you testing me on this because I have a great deal of influence with my husband. Isn’t that right, Kenny? And he will go along with my judgment on this matter.”

Was she the only one who saw the crinkles of amusement forming around his eyes before he gave his family an apologetic shrug? “I’m sorry. She made me promise that she could defend me whenever she wanted. Who knew it’d go this far?”

Torie’s nostrils flared with indignation. “How could you agree to something so lamebrained?”

Emma shot her a warning look.

“She was holding all the cards,” Kenny replied.

Torie frowned, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Lady E, but this is going to spoil all kinds of fun.”

“That’s too bad,” Emma replied. “You’ll simply have to find someone else to be the butt of your jokes because from now on Kenny Traveler is to be treated with respect, both inside and outside this family.
Is that crystal clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When the chorus finally stopped, she condescended to give them a satisfied nod. “Excellent.”

Shelby leaned toward Torie and whispered, “Just tell me she’s not going to make us call him Lord Kenny.”

“Not,” Emma replied, “as long as you don’t upset me.”

They regarded her warily. She turned to Dallie and smiled. “Thank you for looking out for him. We’re very much in your debt.”

Behind her, Kenny started to choke.

“My pleasure.” Dallie’s answering smile was as warm as the Texas sun.

She continued addressing him as she pounded Kenny on the back. “I assume you’ll be issuing a press release announcing Kenny’s return to the tour.”

“First thing tomorrow.”

“Would it be too much to ask if I could have some input into its content?”

Dallie looked at Kenny, who finally had his breath back. “Your wife seems to want to start writing your press releases.”

Kenny looked a little embarrassed, but not too much. “I’ll talk to her.”

For a moment, she allowed her cheek to rest on his sodden golf shirt. “It won’t do you any good. You’ll defend everyone in the world except yourself.” She turned to the group. “In case the rest of you still don’t understand this, Kenny doesn’t believe he deserves to be defended. It’s because he’s still doing penance for his misguided youth.” She gazed up at him. “But no longer. Promise me.”

“Point number four?” he said.

She nodded.

He smiled. “I’d already made up my mind about that.”

As Dallie’s gaze returned to Emma, his eyes were filled with respect. “I’ll have one of our PR people call you first thing tomorrow. The two of you can work it out on the phone.”

“The three of us will work on it,” Kenny said. “I have our future children to think about.”

Emma smiled up at her husband. “Now,” she said softly, “it’s time for point number five.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“That’s too bad.” Emma locked the door behind her. “Where’s that clothesline I bought?”

“Clothesline!” he croaked.

“I may not have to use it. Not if you follow instructions.”

He regarded her warily. The first thing she’d done when they got back to the ranch was order him into the shower—by himself!—and announce that she’d meet him when he was done. Now here she was, wrapped in a frilly little white piece of nothing with violets scattered all over it.

He’d pulled on a pair of jeans, but, feeling optimistic, he hadn’t bothered with anything else.

She gave him a brilliant smile, happy right down to the tips of her toes. He understood the feeling. This woman was the love of his life, and he wasn’t ever going to let her go. That didn’t mean, however, he’d allow things to get boring.

“Maybe it’s about time you tell me exactly what point number five involves.”

“Let me see. . . . How to explain in a way you’ll understand. . . .” She tapped her index finger against her front tooth, then smiled brightly. “Nothing to do, I suppose, but come right out with it. I’m dominating, you’re submitting.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Oh, no.” She walked over to the nightstand, picked up
his
wallet, pulled out some bills, and dangled the money in front of him. “I believe this will take care of your fee for the night.” She took her time stuffing the bills into the front pocket of his jeans. Damn, but he was going to enjoy being married to this woman.

“My fee?”

“For following orders. Being my submissive sex object. My hired
escort
for the night.” She studied his body, making him feel as if he were being scrutinized for purchase by a very cute wolf. It was a nice feeling. But he didn’t want to spoil her fun by giving in too easily, and he managed to glower at her. “Exactly what do you think you’re doing?”

“Uhmm . . .” She actually licked her lips. “Deciding which part of you I’m going to feast on first.”

Hot blood surged through his body, and his skin got clammy all over again. She knelt on the bed, looped a finger through one of the belt loops of his painfully tight jeans, and tugged. “I pick . . . here.” Clasping his hips in her palms, she nuzzled the skin right above his zipper, and, before he knew what was happening, she had him naked and flat on his back, where she began subjecting him to the most exquisite torture he’d ever experienced.

As he fought for sanity, he tried to remember why he’d been so adamant about not letting her take the lead in bed. Just one more way he’d allowed his past to screw up his life. Well, no more. . . .

“I think . . .” he managed, “you’re missing a spot.”

“It’s a lot more than a spot,” she said saucily, “and I want to hear you beg.”

As it turned out, a whole lot of begging went on in that bed for the rest of the night, and not all of it came from him. Most of it did, though, and he had the time of his life. Point number five, he decided, had a lot going for it.

Toward dawn, they found themselves awake again. “Did you ever imagine it could be like this?” she whispered against his inner arm.

“Not in a million years.” He trailed one of her silky curls through his fingers. “I love you so much, baby. More than you can imagine.”

“I can imagine,” she said. “Because I know how much I love you.”

They lay there for a while, petting each other and feeling happy.

“I’ve been thinking . . .” He smiled against her hair. “With your leadership skills and my talent for rescuing you from embarrassing situations, I do believe we’re going to have ourselves a fine life.”

“A very fine life.” She kissed him. “I insist upon it.”

E
mma opened one of the buttons on the light blue dress
shirt Kenny had just finished fastening. “I’m in the mood for point number six.”

His hand was warm as it curled around her hip. “Absolutely not. The last time you insisted on point number six I pulled a hamstring.”

“Stop exaggerating. You didn’t pull a hamstring.”

“Just about.” He bathed her with the smile he kept in reserve just for her. “Besides, pregnant women have no business messing around with point number six.”

One of the very best things about seeing so much of Francesca was having the opportunity to learn from a master, and Emma actually managed a pout. “But I have my heart set on it.”

He nibbled at her bottom lip . . . which was one of the very best things about pouting. “You sure?”

“Uhmm . . .”

“All right, then. I s’pose we can let Patrick entertain our guests till we get downstairs.”

“Our guests! I forgot!” She leaped away from him and scrambled toward her closet, where she grabbed a loose-fitting coffee-colored sheath. “Goodness, Kenny, they’ll be here any minute. This is all your fault. If you hadn’t started kissing me . . .”

“Can’t seem to avoid it. You and your big belly are about the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

She grinned at him. She was only three months pregnant, and her belly wasn’t big at all. They hadn’t even told anyone yet, although they planned to do exactly that during today’s Thanksgiving dinner.

She and Kenny had loved keeping this secret to themselves, whispering over it just before they fell asleep at night, discussing names, exchanging secret smiles. Who could have imagined that a handsome rogue like Kenny Traveler could get so much enjoyment from having a pregnant wife?

Her condition had made her emotional, and her eyes misted. She loved being married to him, loved him so much that just watching him walk into a room filled her with pleasure. He was proving to be the very best sort of husband—passionate, loving, and utterly steadfast.

And she was rather proud of herself for being the best sort of wife—at least for him. She knew she was partially responsible for the fact that he had stopped letting the past shape his identity. Now he was the man he should have been all along—someone who was comfortable in his own skin and no longer doing penance for his childhood.

Although he still loved playing the lazy doofus within the family, no one seemed to be fooled. And since their marriage, his popularity with the public had blossomed, thanks in large part to Francesca Beaudine, who’d overlooked her long-standing policy of not interviewing golfers—“the most boring athletes in the world”—on her monthly
Francesca Today
television special.

The interview had taken place on the sunporch at the ranch, with Kenny and Emma sitting on the couch and Francesca elegantly perched in a nearby chair. During the course of the interview, Emma had, among other things, reduced Sturgis Randall to toast. She’d also defended her husband with a humor and vigor that had convinced the American public that Kenny Traveler couldn’t be quite as pampered as they thought, not if he’d chosen to marry a down-to-earth scrapper like Emma. It hadn’t hurt that Francesca, who at no time during her career had ever pretended at journalistic detachment, also joined in Kenny’s defense.

“The most embarrassing interview I ever went through in my life.” Kenny’d shuddered afterward to Warren and Dallie. “With the way those two women were going at it, I could hardly get a word in edgewise. Promise me something, both of you. If Emma ever decides to drag me in front of the cameras like that again, one of you’ll just shoot me.”