Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas #2)(114)

The water closed over her head. She sank . . . rose . . . sputtered . . . and blinked her eyes until she could see through the strands of wet hair.

Kenny stared down at her from the side of the pool with the most tragic, stricken look on his face she’d ever seen. As she tried to make sense of it, his body straightened and he dove in after her, shoes and all.

Her own sandals slipped from her toes as she began to tread water, waiting for him to surface.

He came up sputtering and desperate. “I love you!” he cried. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with golf, or the tour, or anything except what’s inside me! And you love me! It’s not just sex. You’ve got too much integrity for that.”

She stared at the inky hair plastered to his head, the water streaming down his gorgeous, tanned face, his dark, spiked lashes, and eyes that smoldered with intensity. “I’m sorry I figured it out at an inconvenient time, but when have I ever done anything conveniently? And I finally do have it figured out. I have all kinds of things figured out.” He regarded her searchingly. “I know I’m asking for a lot. The idea of spending the rest of your life with somebody who’s been as unstable as me has to be scary, but you’ve got a lot of grit, and you can do it if you set your mind to it.” He paused. “Can’t you?”

She was too stunned to speak.

Despite her lack of response, he wasn’t giving up, and he continued treading water as he tried to convince her. “I know I might never mean as much to you as that school of yours, but a school can’t give you what I can. A school can’t give you kids, and a school can’t walk along the Pedernales with you in the evening, and a school can’t make you laugh.” His voice softened, then grew husky. “I can do all those things, Emma, and a lot more. Just give me a chance.”

Despite the chill of the pool water, warmth was beginning to spread through her. Why hadn’t she remembered that Kenny never did things like other people? That was what made him so infuriating and so wonderful.

The weight of his heavy golf shoes had pulled him lower in the water than she was, but he continued speaking in those urgent, desperate tones. “We’re married, sweetheart. The ceremony might have happened in a seedy Vegas chapel, but I didn’t take those vows lightly when I was saying them, and I’m not taking them lightly now. If you don’t feel married, we’ll do it all over again, right here in Wynette, or we can go back to England and get married there, whatever will make you understand that this is real. We’re attached to each other now, and that’s the way it has to be.”

Attached. This man was attached to her.

“I know how much that school means to you. Maybe I can—I don’t know—buy it or something. I could take out some loans, pick up more endorsements. We’d have to sell the ranch, but I’m willing to do that if it’ll make you happy.”

He’d knocked the breath right out of her. He was willing to sell his ranch to buy St. Gert’s? She couldn’t imagine—couldn’t think—but her spirits had begun to fly. At the same time, seeing that desperation in his eyes had become intolerable, and she managed to speak.

“That’s the second time you’ve thrown me in a pool.”

He looked devastated. “You were getting ready to walk away for good, and it was the only thing I could think of to do.”

“Throw me in the pool?”

He nodded, his expression an endearing combination of anxiety and stubbornness. “I had to.”

Only Kenny Traveler, the terror of Wynette, Texas, could try to convince a woman that he loved her by throwing her, fully dressed, into a swimming pool. “Yes, well, you’ve managed to ruin my very favorite pair of sandals.”

He grew still, then said softly, “I’ll buy you a hundred more.”

Oh, no, he wasn’t going to get around her that easily! Not after what he’d put her through. “That’s not the point. The point is, I liked those sandals. They were Italian. And you’re sinking.”

His eyes were still wary. “You got something to say?”

“I certainly do. But I prefer to say it on dry land.”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head unhappily. “I’ll do anything for you, but I can’t let you out of the water until we get this settled. You’re still too mad at me, and you might decide to run away again.”

“You’re sinking,” she pointed out again. “It’s your shoes,” she added.

“Don’t you worry about it.”

She was getting tired, but she continued to tread. “Very well. In the first place, you will not be selling the ranch. The very idea. And in the second place—”

“What about St. Gert’s?”

Even though his gaze hadn’t lost any of its seriousness, she thought she detected a spark of hope there. “I have to put St. Gert’s behind me.”

“You love that old school, sweetheart. Maybe I can find another way to come up with the money. The season’s just heating up, and there are some fat purses out there. If I get lucky, I might be able to pull off a couple of big wins.”

She could feel herself succumbing to his sweetness, but she wouldn’t surrender yet, not until she’d finished stating her position. “I have no intention of letting you buy St. Gert’s for me, although I appreciate the offer. I know if I think hard enough I’ll come up with another plan.”