Razzmatazz-DDL (17 page)

“There are a lot of things I don’t know about you, Kennie. And not a single one of them could change the way I feel.”

She stopped breathing. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Not now. Not when she was so confused....

“Kennie, there’s been very little stability in my life. I stopped looking for it a long time ago. But the one thing there has been plenty of is luck. I happen to be a very lucky fellow, and I always play my hunches.”

“Is this leading somewhere?”

But then a subtle change came across his face. For once, she felt she was seeing past the veneer, past the smooth, polished patina of charm to something yearning, grasping, needing. And from the way his gaze drilled into hers she knew without his saying a word what he needed...her.

“Kennie, I love you.”

Where was the shock? she wondered. It was lost somewhere deep beneath the shimmering glow induced by those ridiculous words.

“You aren’t going to tell me I don’t?” His voice teased; his eyes didn’t. “You aren’t going to argue with me? You aren’t going to tell me it’s impossible, that we don’t even know each other and that I’m crazy?”

“No.” Her throat had thickened so that she could hardly speak. “No. I believe you.”

“Then does that mean....” He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face to meet his cocky grin. “You’re going to make me drag it out of you, aren’t you? Not nice. Not nice at all, Kennie Sue.” His dark lashes lowered as his voice took on a gentle rasp. “You do love me, too, don’t you?”

She clenched her fists, and the filigreed band on her finger felt strange, yet not uncomfortable. “I...I think so.”

Alex fixed her with a patient smile. “Why don’t we go tell your mother that we’re married, that we love each other, and that we want her blessing.”

A jolt of dismay flew through her and she stood bolt upright, pulling away to stare into his opaque eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You needn’t look so astounded. Stranger things have happened, you know.”

“You are crazy! We can’t stay married! Look at the differences between us. You’re Lear jets and high society, and I’m Ford Pintos and rodeos. We don’t fit together! It would never work!”

“Kennie, I’m ashamed of you. Judging people so superficially, this way. Holding it against me that I have a friend with a private jet.” With one manicured thumb he brushed a spray of windblown hair from her eyes and removed a smudge of dust from her cheek.

“There you go, twisting my words again.”

“No, I’m listening to them. I’m telling you what you’re really saying.”

“All right, then. Listen to these words: I don’t know you; I don’t trust you.”

She expected him to at least flinch. He didn’t. “We will get to know each other better. And trust.... Well, Kennie, that’s one of the things I love about you. If you ever give it to me, it’ll be mine forever, won’t it?”

She didn’t know how to answer him. She was afraid, because the answer she wanted to give was the answer he wanted to hear. And that was crazy. It was ridiculous. What’s more, he didn’t even bother to wait for it.

“Don’t worry. Your mother’s going to love me,” he said.

“Don’t be so sure,” she muttered rebelliously.

“Kennie, I assure you I can handle everything.”

“Just one thing.” She took perverse pleasure in watching his expression of unfaltering confidence fade. “Mama’s the one who perfected my left hook.”

It was with great satisfaction that she slipped from his suddenly limp arms and into her car. “If I were you, I’d let me do all the talking.”

For once Alex Carruthers seemed too stunned to argue.

CHAPTER TEN

ALEX STEPPED THROUGH the door of the small frame house, two paces behind Kennie. Her back was stiff, her shoulders tense, and for a moment he was torn between a slight taste of guilt and a strong sense of rightness, so of course the rightness won. She’d forgive him once she understood. And she would understand; he’d make her understand.

But all such thoughts flew out of his head when he was confronted with the slender woman standing poised near the bookcase, framed by an array of trophies. She appeared little older than her daughter, except for her assessing, calm presence and the weathered lines that were beginning to crinkle the corners of her eyes. Her hair was blond, her skin deeply bronzed from exposure to the sun. But her tightly belted waist was still slim, the jean-clad hips and legs were shapely, and the clear eyes that met his gaze were narrowed in a challenge so similar to that of her daughter that for a moment he felt he was catching a glimpse of what the future held.

One hand on her hip, Dorinda Ledbetter gave Alex the uneasy feeling that she might not be as easily won over as he’d assumed.

Her gaze never left him, but her words were for Kennie. “Rusk came by a while ago.”

Kennie patted her hair, and her voice was smooth and even. “I’m not surprised.”

“His mother called before that.”

Alex wished she wouldn’t stare at him quite so intently. “Mama, you may as well sit down and listen.”

The older woman finally slid her gaze to her daughter. “Kennie Sue, why do I have a sinkin’ feelin’ about what you’re fixin’ to tell me? I remember pretty well the last time I felt this way.”

Stiffening, Kennie raised a clasped fist to her lips, her expression a combination of anger and dread. Something strange was going on here, Alex realized. Somehow, he felt like an extraneous bystander they’d left light-years behind. “Sit down, Mama, and I’ll explain everything.”

“Why don’t you do that?” She dropped into a leather armchair and reached for a glass of iced tea, mercifully releasing them from her scrutiny. “There’s more in the kitchen.”

“No, thank you,” Kennie said automatically.

“Please,” Alex said simultaneously.

“Get your husband a drink, Kennie.” After a moment’s hesitation, Kennie headed for the kitchen. “The whiskey’s in the china cabinet,” her mother added.

“No, thank you,” Alex said smoothly. “I’d prefer tea.” Kennie’s shoulders relaxed a little; her expression softened. “Sugar and lemon?”

“Please.” But the simple word took on new meaning as Kennie slid through the kitchen door, leaving him alone with her mother. A cabinet door slammed; a drawer rattled. Why hadn’t he asked for it plain?

“Mrs. Ledbetter—”

“Dorinda.”

He smiled and found the well-oiled machinery still in working order. “Dorinda. Frankly I’m amazed at all the trophies.”

Dorinda set the glass on the table beside her with more force than necessary. She examined her nails; unlike Kennie’s, they were short and neat, her hands rough.

Alex’s gaze strayed to a trophy peeking over her shoulder. High atop its columned base a horse with a female rider was frozen, rounding a barrel teetering on its edge. “I see Kennie’s been holding out on me.”

“Heaven forbid.”

He cleared his throat. “She said she wasn’t any good at barrel racing.”

Dorinda Ledbetter snorted. “The child was pitiful. The trophies are mine.”

“You mean—you?” he choked. “They’re all yours?”

She nodded.

“You must have been—”

Her smile would have stopped a bullet. “Still am, Alex. I still am.”

He felt intense gratitude when Kennie entered with two glasses in her hands. He took his, drinking deeply just to have something to occupy him, but when the cold liquid hit his throat, he realized how parched he was.

Kennie placed her hands on her hips and faced her mother. “Now, Mama,” she said, and green eyes locked with green eyes. Unfortunately, Alex feared Kennie was at a twenty-year disadvantage. “I want you to listen to me, Mama, and I don’t want you to say a word until I’m finished.”

Alex tried to study the ice melting in his glass, the dusty scuff on the toe of his right shoe, the bluebonnet painting on the far wall. He did wish Kennie would leave out a few of the more incriminating details, but she didn’t. At certain phrases like “ambrosia punch” and “woke up the next morning” and “flipped a coin,” some suicidal urge made him glance in Dorinda Ledbetter’s direction. Her jaw was clenched, her cheeks flushed with high color and—good God—her fists were clenched. He almost choked on a piece of ice.

But as Kennie had requested, she didn’t say a word. “Now, that’s the plain truth, Mama, and just say what you’re going to say and get it over with.”

The older woman shook her head slowly from side to side, her moist eyes swinging from Alex to Kennie.

“I am so sorry,” Alex began, and for once in his life, guilt and remorse were ready to drag him under. “This is all my fault. I should be horsewhipped.” The older woman’s fists clenched; he immediately regretted his choice of words.

“Kennie, baby...get the whiskey.” Her hand went to her lips, and tears spilled from her eyes. Tears of laughter. Alex stared in disbelief as the woman succumbed, shoulders quaking, her hearty laughter filling the small room. “Now!” she begged. “I’ve gotta have a drink!”

“You’re—you’re not angry?” he asked, feeling the weight of the great state of Texas lifted from his shoulders.

“Give me time,” she gasped, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “I will be. When I stop laughing—I will be.”

Alex rose toward the dining room. “Maybe I will have that drink.”

“Over my dead body!” Kennie gasped.

“What?” He shot Kennie a startled look.

“How dare you two act as if this is a big joke?” she demanded. “You, I understand,” she snarled at Alex, “but my own mother?” She glared at Dorinda. “You’re supposed to be mad! You’re supposed to be ready to kill this sidewinder for what he did to me—not laugh!”

Her mother gestured toward the china cabinet. “Please, Alex, if we have to put up with one of her tantrums, at least get us something to drink.”

Alex, for one, was inclined to agree. His hand was almost trembling as he reached deep into the cabinet and shoved a few knickknacks around, seeking the elusive bottle.

“It’s in the soup tureen,” Dorinda offered.

He snatched a couple of cut-glass tumblers from the top shelf of the walnut cabinet and, clutching the pint bottle in the crook of his arm, crossed to Dorinda’s side. He was beginning to like his mother-in-law.

Heavy boots clumped up the front steps, crossed the wooden porch, and without a pause, Rusk Delaney shoved the screen door open and walked in, his heavy blond brows meeting in a frown. “Kennie Sue, what in hell is goin’ on here?”

Alex set the glasses and bottle on the table beside Dorinda and raised himself to his full height. “We were about to toast our marriage. Let me get another glass.” He retraced his steps to the china cabinet, reached unerringly for another tumbler and returned with the casual aplomb of a man in his own domain.

“Kennie won’t be joining us,” Alex remarked easily. “Alcohol doesn’t agree with her, but I’m sure you already know that.”

Rusk dismissed Alex with a scowl and focused on Kennie instead. “I don’t know what he’s trying to pull, but if you’re in some kind of trouble—”

“I’m not in trouble.” Her fists were clenched on her hips, and Alex watched her fighting for control. “Rusk, if you’ll just wait till later, I’ll explain. Right now I’ve got my hands full dealing with these two….”

“Loved ones,” Alex interjected helpfully, his lips twitching.

She shot him a dirty look.

“Kennie Sue, are you sure?” Rusk sounded gruff and uncertain, his linebacker shoulders not as rigid, Alex thought.

“I’m positive.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “Thanks for coming, Rusk.”

“Since you’re here, Rusk,” Dorinda said, “I’ve got a hundred-pound bag of oats in the shed that needs to be moved to the barn.”

“Let me take care of that for you, ma’am.”

“Kennie Sue, go show him the key to the shed.”

“Mama, he knows where—”

“Kennie Sue, take Rusk to the shed.”

Kennie rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Whatever you say.”

“I believe I’ll walk with them,” Alex said easily as Kennie and Rusk left. “It’ll give me a chance to see—”

“Not so fast,” Dorinda said. “We’re not finished yet.”

He gulped. “Oh.”

“I don’t understand something.”

“Only one something?” he asked with a guilty sigh.

“If all this happened in Reno, where have you been for the last week?”

Alex stared down at her emotionless features. Damn, but she was hard to read. Finally he expelled a short gust of air. “I had some business to take care of.”

“You two are planning an annulment, and yet you marched down the center aisle of the church and announced to the town that you were married.”

“Correction,” Alex said, and she lifted her brows in question. “Kennie’s planning on an annulment. I’m not.”

“You like to play games, don’t you?” Dorinda asked, her eyes narrowing.

He flinched. “That’s one of my many faults.”

“So tell me. What are you planning?”

Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. Out of habit, he found the thick gold coin and closed his fingers around it. “I am going to convince her to stay married to me.”

“I see.”

The sun had dipped low, and the room was cast in shadow. Somehow, despite the dimmer light, Dorinda Ledbetter looked older, more worn, Alex mused.

“If I thought it would do any good, I’d tell my daughter to run from you as hard as her legs would take her.”

“You don’t understand,” he grated. “I love her.”

“Since when has that been enough?” she asked softly. “It’s not entirely personal, Alex, but trusting men has not been my long suit.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have your blessing,” he said, straightening. “But it doesn’t change a thing. I love her, and I’m going to fight for her.”

“You don’t need anybody’s blessing. You’re both adults. I’m not going to interfere.” She waved a tired hand. “Go do whatever you have to do.”

“There’s one thing I want to know.”

She raised her eyes to him, not agreeing to anything.

“Who’s Rusk? What is he to her?”

“She hasn’t told you about Rusk?” She smiled then, catching him off guard. “Rusk? Why, Rusk Delaney is...was Kennie’s first husband.”

“What?” He was too stunned to react. “She didn’t say a word.”

“You’re not the only one with secrets, it seems. But if it makes it any easier to swallow, they were both eighteen. Rusk was on his way to Texas Tech on a football scholarship, and the young fools thought they couldn’t live without each other.” She splashed two fingers of amber liquid into one of the glasses. “It lasted for exactly four weeks.”