Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(24)

Droplets of water glistened on the hood of the car from the passing headlights. She tried not to dwell on Willow’s angry phone calls and, instead, attempted to look at the positive side of the situation. In the past few days, she’d seen more of the country than she’d ever imagined, and she’d met the most interesting people: country and western singers, aerobics instructors, lots of football players, and a very nice transvestite who’d shown her some clever ways to tie a scarf.

Best of all, Bobby Tom hadn’t tried to shake her off. She still wasn’t entirely certain why he hadn’t ditched her in Memphis, but sometimes she had the eerie sense he didn’t want to be alone. With the exception of that one unfortunate incident when he’d stopped the car on a bridge, dragged her to the side, and threatened to toss her over, they’d gotten along very well. Even so, tonight she found herself feeling decidedly awkward.

“You comfortable over there, Gracie?”

She kept her eyes on the wiper blades. “I’m fine, Bobby Tom. Thank you for asking.”

“You look like you’re sort of squished against the door handle. This isn’t really a three passenger car. You sure you don’t want me to take you back to the hotel?”

“I’m positive.”

“Bobby Tom, sweetie, is she plannin’ to stay with us all night?” Cheryl Lynn Howell, his date for the evening, sounded petulant as she snuggled into his shoulder.

“She’s kind of hard to shake, honey. Why don’t you just pretend she’s not here?”

“That’s hard to do when you keep talking to her. I swear, Bobby Tom, you talked more to her this evening than you did to me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, honey. She didn’t even sit with us at the restaurant.”

“She sat at the next table and you kept turning around to ask her questions. Besides, I don’t know what you need a bodyguard for.”

“There are a lot of dangerous people in the world.”

“That may be, but you’re stronger than she is.”

“She’s a better shot. Gracie’s pure magic with an Uzi.”

Gracie stifled a smile. He was shameless, but incredibly inventive. She shifted her weight a bit closer to the center of the seat. The lack of interior room in the antique Thunderbird hadn’t been as much of a problem as she’d feared. Although she and Cheryl Lynn were supposed to be sharing the space, the former beauty queen was practically sitting on Bobby Tom’s lap. She had somehow managed to straddle the gearbox and still look graceful.

Gracie glanced at Cheryl Lynn’s softly draped off-the-shoulder coral lace dress with envy. Her own voluminous black wraparound skirt and red-and-white-striped knit top made her look like a barber’s pole.

Cheryl settled her hand over Bobby Tom’s thigh. “Explain to me again exactly who’s after you. I thought you only had problems with paternity suits, not the CIA.”

“Some of those paternity suits can get kinda nasty. In this case, the young lady in question didn’t mention her father’s close connection with organized crime until it was too late. Isn’t that so, Gracie?”

Gracie pretended not to hear. Although she was secretly entranced with the image of herself as an Uzi-toting CIA agent, she knew it probably wasn’t good for his character to encourage him in falsehoods.

Once again Bobby Tom glanced at her over the top of Cheryl Lynn’s fluffy blond curls. “How was that spaghetti you ordered?”

“It was excellent.”

“I’m not much for the green stuff they poured over it.”

“Are you referring to the pesto?”

“Whatever. I like a nice meat sauce.”

“Of course you do. With a double rack of greasy ribs on the side, I’ll bet.”

“You’re making my mouth water just thinking about it.”

Cheryl Lynn lifted her head from his shoulder. “You’re doin’ it again, B.T.”

“Doing what, sweetheart?”

“Talkin’ to her.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin’. Not when I’ve got you on my mind.”

Grace gave a small cough, letting Bobby Tom know that Miss Lone Star Cowgirl Roundup Queen might buy his particular line of horse pucky, but she saw right through him.

Although the evening had been somewhat embarrassing, it had also been enlightening. It wasn’t every day that a mere mortal like herself got to observe pure genius at work. She had never imagined any man could be such a skillful manipulator of women. Bobby Tom was eternally agreeable, perpetually charming, incessantly indulgent. He was so relentlessly accommodating that none of the women who orbited around him seemed to realize he only did exactly as he pleased.

They pulled to a stop in front of a row of mission style condominiums. Cheryl Lynn leaned closer and whispered something in Bobby Tom’s ear.

He scratched the side of his neck. “I don’t know, honey. That might be kind of embarrassing with Gracie lookin’ on, but if you don’t mind, I guess it’s all right with me.”

This was too much, even for Cheryl Lynn, and the beauty queen reluctantly agreed that they should call it a night. Gracie watched as he popped her umbrella and held it over her head while he escorted her to the door. In her opinion, Bobby Tom was showing good sense in dumping Cheryl Lynn, although she couldn’t imagine why he’d agreed to go out with her in the first place. The beauty queen was opinionated, self-centered, and considerably less intelligent than the source of those crab legs she’d ordered for dinner. Even so, Bobby Tom had treated her as if she were a paragon of womanhood. He was the perfect gentleman with everybody but her.