Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas #2)(95)

If only she had some idea what he was truly feeling, it might be easier, but he remained as closed off from her as a locked door.

The next morning she awakened to the sound of him speaking quietly on the telephone in the suite’s adjoining living room. “I’m not going to talk about it, Shelby. And I’m not telling you where we’re staying, either. Now come on. Just put him on the phone.”

There was a pause before Kenny spoke again. This time his voice was pitched higher. “Hey, Petie. It’s Kenny. Listen, buddy, I didn’t mean to disappear on you. I’ll be back soon, and we’ll go swimming, okay? Swimming. You and me.”

Emma smiled to herself. This was the side of Kenny she loved the most.

Another pause, then his pitch deepened, so she knew Shelby had come back on. “If you know which hotel we’re in, you’ll somehow let it slip, and then the press’ll be all over me.” Another pause, then he said dryly, “Yeah, it was a real romantic ceremony. Uh-huh. I’ll tell her.”

He appeared in the doorway, his hair still rumpled and his stubble approaching the pirate stage. “Shelby says hi.”

Knowing Shelby, Emma imagined the message was much longer than that, but she didn’t question him.

They spent the next few hours in bed with Kenny directing the action, as always, but being so sublimely attentive to her needs that she couldn’t complain. Finally, they wrapped themselves in hotel bathrobes and ate a room service breakfast. Several times she tried to get him to talk about the enormity of what they’d done, but he shrugged it off as if they’d committed themselves to nothing more complex than a Saturday night date. Sex seemed to be the only connection he wanted to have with her, and the knot in her stomach grew tighter.

After they’d finished eating, they went out to buy a change of clothes for each of them. Kenny tried to disguise himself in a pair of trendy sunglasses and his Dean Witter cap, but several people in the store still recognized him and wanted to talk about what had happened. He dismissed their questions by acting as if he didn’t understand them.

Eventually, they found some anonymity by mingling with the tourists walking along the Strip. Although Emma’d seen photographs of Las Vegas, the reality of this resort built in the desert was far different. She found it fascinating from an anthropological standpoint, but not exactly to her taste, and Kenny seemed to read her mind. “Come on. I’ll show you a place I know you’ll like.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Less than an hour later, they were looking out over Hoover Dam. The sheer size of the structure took her breath away.

“I know you have lots of cool castles and awesome cathedrals and things like that back in England,” he said. “Not to mention some great golf courses. But you’ve got to admit this really kicks ass.”

His boyish enthusiasm made her laugh. “It certainly does.”

He gave her a squeeze, then gently brushed a tendril from her cheek. She wondered if the tender expression on his face was a trick of the light.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re itching to sit down and analyze this thing to death. Make a big list, fill out a whole bunch of Cosmo compatability quizzes, discuss short-term objectives and long-term goals, and who knows what else. But could you just let it go for now? Could we take it easy? Have a good time and see how things work out?”

As she gazed up into those marsh violet eyes with their fringe of spiky black lashes, she reminded herself that this was a man who’d made laziness his life’s goal. Or at least the appearance of laziness. Kenny didn’t want anyone ever to know he worked hard at anything. And apparently he had no intention of working hard at this. Or did he? In so many ways, he was still a mystery to her. She didn’t believe life’s important issues could simply be ignored, but she also knew she couldn’t make him talk about it. What he was asking was wrong, but this might be the only way he knew to cope.

And maybe she didn’t want to talk about it, either. The notion startled her. She was a person who’d always confronted problems head-on, but did she really want to hear him spell out the fact that he liked her, but didn’t love her? Did she really want to hear him say that he had no intention of taking this marriage seriously, that he’d been upset and sleep-deprived when he’d gone into it, and that he regretted the whole thing?

She was ashamed of her cowardice, and she gazed across Lake Mead toward a pair of sailboats. “All right, Kenny. Just for now.”

He smiled down at her. “Have I ever told you that you’re one terrific lady?”

“No. Just that I’m bossy.”

“One thing doesn’t necessarily cancel out the other.”

“You’re mad, do you know that? A complete madman.” As she smiled at him, her own words triggered a fragment of memory from the morning before, and she heard Hugh’s voice exactly the way it had sounded when she’d marched into his hotel room.

He’s a madman! If I’d known he was insane when I spoke with him that first time . . .

A funny prickling ran along her arms. This was what had been bothering her yesterday. What had Hugh meant when he’d said that? The first time implied there had been other times. But as far Emma knew, the men had only met once, in Shelby and Warren Traveler’s living room. Still, why would Hugh have said something like that if they’d only met once? Why would he have—