Blue-Eyed Devil (Travis Family #2)(80)

"You're mad because you didn't get a chance to do macho stuff and show off. You can't stand for anyone else to be a hero. You're the head caveman, and no one's club is bigger than yours."

"Damn it, Haven, quit fighting like a girl. It has nothing to do with the size of my club." He glanced up and down the hallway. "Come inside for a minute, will you?"

"No, I don't have much time to get ready. I'm going up to my place. I only wanted to stop by and tell you to be nice to my — " I broke off abruptly.

"Your what?" Jack demanded.

I shook my head, disconcerted. God knew what word or phrase I should apply in Hardy. "Boyfriend" sounded so high-schoolish.

And inappropriate, since Hardy was fat from a boy. Lover . . . well, that was old-fashioned and melodramatic. Significant other? Friend with benefits? No, and no.

"My date," I said, and gave him a warning frown. "I'm serious about this, Jack. If you're a jerk to him tonight, I'm going to skin you like a buffalo."

"I don't get what you're asking for. If you want my approval, you're not getting it. I don't know enough about the bastard yet . . . and what I do know isn't consistent."

My temper ignited at his assumption that my love life depended on his good opinion. "I don't want your approval," I said curtly. "Just basic good manners. I'm just asking you not to be an ass**le for two hours. Think you can manage that? "

"Shit," Jack muttered, drawing the word out to a full two syllables. "Bossy as you're getting, I almost feel sorry for the guy."

The aquarium had a nice view of the Houston skyline from a third-floor ballroom lined with glass windows. There was a reception for at least six hundred people, who entered a foyer with a large cylindrical tank, went to a shark-voyage ride, and browsed past exhibits designed to imitate a shipwreck, a sunken temple, a swamp, and a rain forest.

The concerns I had over attending a reception with Hardy were gone within five minutes of arriving. He was relaxed and fun, chatting easily with people, taking me around. As Hardy introduced me to his business partners and their wives, and several other friends, I realized he was far from an outsider in this crowd. Although he hadn't yet become part of the established circles like my family's, he was part of a group who ran the smaller, more nimble companies that were finding new niches to fill.

Hardy and I even knew some of the same people, a few of whom laughingly advised me that he would be a good catch for a woman who could manage to keep him in line. I realized that in his deceptively lazy way, Hardy was working the crowd as adeptly as anyone I had ever seen. He seemed to know everyone's name, and he had the knack of focusing on the person he was talking to as if he or she were the most important person in the room.

At the same time, Hardy was an attentive date, getting me a drink from the bar, keeping a light hand on my back, whispering things to make me laugh. As we stood in a group and talked, he idly straightened a kink on the gold chain of my evening bag as it dangled from my shoulder.

I had wondered how Hardy would treat me when we were with other people, if he would want me to act as his satellite. That was what Nick had always demanded. But to my surprise, Hardy didn't seem to mind me having my own opinions. When the conversation turned to oil shale, for example. One of Hardy's business partners, a geophysicist named Roy Newkirk, was talking enthusiastically about the possibilities of developing shale as an alternative to conventional oil. But I said I'd read that it would be as bad for the environment as open-pit mining. And furthermore, the processing of shale would dump huge amounts of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, which I thought was criminal. Unless one thought that global warming wasn't coming along fast enough.

Roy received my comments with a forced smile. "Hardy, didn't I warn you not to date a woman who reads?"

Hardy seemed amused by my outspokenness. "Keeps the arguing to a minimum," he replied. "No point in trying when I know she's going to win."

"I hope I didn't annoy you," I murmured to Hardy afterward. "I'm sorry I didn't agree with Roy."

"I like a woman who speaks her mind," Hardy replied. "Besides, you were right. Technology is nowhere near where it needs to be, for the extraction to be worth it. As things stand, it's bad for the environment and it's too expensive."

I gave him a speculative glance. "If technology made the process cheaper but it was still bad for the environment, would you go for it?"

"No — " he began, but before he could explain why, we were interrupted by a booming laugh. A heavy hand on my shoulder turned me around.

"Uncle T.J.," I exclaimed. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

T.J. Bolt wasn't really my uncle, but I'd known him since I was born. He was Dad's closest friend, and I suspected he'd always had a crush on my mother. He liked women a little too much, having been married five times. T.J. was one of the more colorful characters in the oil patch.

As a young man in East Texas, T.J. had gotten his start by working at a drilling equipment supplies company. Somehow he'd found the money to buy land and mineral rights for some productive fields, and he'd used the profits to buy more land, and more. He had his fingers in a lot of pies. And he was courted by landmen from every major development company, all eager to negotiate for potentially priceless leases.