Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas #2)(76)

She turned her face into the breeze, unwilling to spoil what little time she had left with introspection. Instead, she considered the guided tour of the Alamo Kenny had given her that afternoon. As he’d led her through Texas’s most famous shrine, she’d realized all those volumes of history and biography she’d seen scattered around the house hadn’t been put there by Patrick as decorative accents.

His hand felt large and comforting curled around hers. She admired a lovely old building on the other side of the river, then smiled up at him. “You’re a real history buff, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“For one thing, you know a lot more about Texas history than most people.”

“I wanted to major in history in college, but my high school grades were so crummy that my counselor recommended against it.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Not really. He was probably right. Even taking easy subjects at UT, I pretty much made straight C’s. And then I dropped out my senior year to turn pro.”

“Yes, well, I should imagine it’s difficult to do much better than C’s when you hardly ever went to class.”

He darted her a curious glance. “How’d you know that?”

“By spending five minutes in your company. Really, Kenny, I’ve never known anyone so afraid to challenge himself.”

He dropped her hand and looked aggravated. “You happen to be standing here with a man who’s won two majors in the past three years. I know everything there is to know about challenge.”

“But winning tournaments is different, isn’t it?” She took his hand back and gave it a comforting squeeze. She knew this weekend was especially hard on him with the Masters being played at Augusta, but he’d maintained a stoic silence on the topic. “The golf course is probably the only place in the world where you’re not afraid to let people see you working hard.”

“That’s because it’s the only place in the world where I do work hard.”

She smiled at him and pressed her cheek against the side of his arm for just a moment. “Give it up, Kenny. You work hard at lots of things. Your exercise program, for example. It’s only because you make everything seem so easy that you don’t look like you’re doing anything.”

“You are so full of it that—”

“I should be fertilizer, I know. You want people to believe you’re lazy. It’s almost as if you think you don’t deserve anyone’s good opinion.”

“Bull.” Tension ticked at the corner of his mouth, and she knew she’d hit a nerve.

There were so many topics neither of them wanted to talk about, including his suspension and her problems with the Duke of Beddington. For the past five days, she’d been drifting along in a sensual haze, acting as if tomorrow would never come. She’d seen no signs of anyone following them, and now, with her return only two days away, she had to face the fact that she’d been behaving irresponsibly. She hadn’t tried to contact Hugh or done a single thing to upset him. It was as if she’d been lulled into a sensual world where the future didn’t exist.

A flutter of panic ruffled her stomach, stealing away some of her pleasure in the day. “Are you certain you can’t remember the names of anyone who was in the drugstore that night?”

“I told you the last time you brought this up that I was concentrating on finding the right shoelaces, so I wasn’t paying attention.”

“But surely you spoke to someone.”

“Not that I remember.”

Her spirits plummeted. She was no better off now than she’d been when she’d stepped off the plane. “Beddington knew I bought a tabloid, so his spy had to have been right there in the drugstore. But why didn’t he report anything else?”

A shapely female jogger approached, her ponytail swinging, but Kenny didn’t seem to notice. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t look at other women when he was with her. He really was a wonderful man, despite his foibles. Intelligent and entertaining. He also had a surprisingly old-fashioned sense of courtesy. Already today he’d been interrupted at least a dozen times by fans, and he’d responded to all of them politely while, at the same time, making it evident that his first obligation was to her.

They had reached the end of the accessible part of the Riverwalk, and they turned around. It was quiet here, tucked down below the city streets, with only the occasional interruption of a passing river taxi or a stray tourist. The feeling of privacy reminded her of St. Gert’s in the late afternoon. Even with the girls racing about, there were wonderfully secluded spots tucked away here and there.

“I should never have assumed the spy was a man,” she said. “It could just as easily have been a woman.”

“Now I recall I do believe I saw Old Mrs. Cooligan over by the Fannie Mae display. She’s eighty if she’s a day, but she’s real spry.”

“Go on and make fun. It’s creepy knowing that I was being followed, but not being able to figure out who was doing it. And why have they stopped?”

“I understand, sweetheart. And you know how I feel about your attachment to that pile of stones on the other side of the pond, so I’m not going to say anything more about it.”

“I know what you’re thinking.” She regarded him peevishly. “You’re thinking I’m going to turn into one of those dotty, dear things. That I’ll start talking to myself and collecting cats and wearing ratty old jerseys that smell like mothballs.”