Call Me Irresistible

  Chapter Eleven

  At the pool, Meg watched Torie wrap two future beauty queens in beach towels. The happy kisses she planted on both noses testified that she was all bluster when it came to complaining about her kids. Kenny, in the meantime, was refereeing an argument between two young boys with hair as dark as his own, while a little girl with her mother’s butterscotch curls stole the disputed rubber raft from behind their backs and ran into the pool with it.

  Eventually Meg managed to excuse herself to use the bathroom only to find Spence waiting in the hallway with a fresh glass of wine as she came out. “I seem to remember you were drinking the sauvignon blanc.” He hit the consonants hard, like a man with no patience for any language other than English, then poked his head into the bathroom. “Kohler toilet,” he said. “But those are my faucets. Brushed nickel. Part of our Chesterfield line.”

  “They’re . . . lovely.”

  “Sunny designed them. That girl is a whiz.”

  “She seems really accomplished.” Meg tried to ease away, but he was a big man, and he blocked the hallway. His hand settled into its too-familiar spot in the middle of her back. “I have to fly back to Indy for a couple of days. After that, I need to make a quick run to London to check out a cabinet company. I know you’ve got a job, but”—he winked—“why don’t I see if I can arrange for you to get a couple of days off and come with me?”

  She was starting to feel a little queasy. “Spence, you’re a great guy . . .” A great guy with a chunk of barbecued chicken wedged in his front teeth. “I’m really flattered, but . . .” She tried to look besotted. “You know I’m in love with Ted.”

  He gave her an indulgent smile. “Meg, honey, chasing after a guy who’s not interested in you will rip the hell out of your self-respect. Better to face facts now because the longer you put it off, the harder it’ll be.”

  She wasn’t giving up that easily. “I don’t actually know that Ted’s not interested in me.”

  He moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “You’ve seen Ted with Sunny. The way the sparks are flying between them. Even somebody half blind could tell those two are made for each other.”

  He was wrong. The only genuine sparks had come from Sunny. The rest had come from the Beaudine voodoo machine. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what kind of woman Ted needed, but it wasn’t Spence’s daughter any more than it had been Lucy. Still, what did she know? Maybe Sunny, with her advanced degree and engineering mind, was right for him.

  “Now, I know he’s just coming off an engagement,” Spence said, “but Sunny’s smart. She’ll take her time. He already treats her like she’s the only woman in the world.”

  Obviously, Spence hadn’t noticed that he treated every female that way. “Ted and Sunny together.” He chuckled. “Now that would really clinch the deal here.”

  Right then, she figured out the answer to the question everyone in town had been asking: Why had Spence changed his mind about Wynette?

  Last spring, Spence had rejected the town in favor of San Antonio, but a little over a month ago, he’d reappeared and announced that Wynette was once again in the running. And now Meg knew it was because of Sunny. His daughter had first met Ted when he was still engaged to Lucy. But he wasn’t engaged now, and what Sunny wanted, Spence would do his best to make sure Sunny got.

  “Tell me about your new Cleaner You toilet,” Meg said. “I’m dying to hear the details.”

  He eagerly launched into a description of a toilet that automatically washed the user’s butt. That quickly led to his next favorite topic, her life in Hollywood. “All those famous people’s houses . . . I’ll bet you’ve seen some great bathrooms.”

  “I mainly grew up in Connecticut, and I spend a lot of time traveling.”

  That didn’t stop him from asking if she knew his favorite stars, a list that included Cameron Diaz, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and inexplicably, Tori Spelling.

  The fireworks began as soon as it was dark. While the guests gathered on the back lawn, eleven-year-old Peter Traveler, Shelby and Warren’s son, raced around the yard with his friends, and the sleepy younger children curled up on oversize beach towels next to their parents. One of Torie’s daughters entwined her fingers in her mother’s hair. Kenny and Emma’s three children sprawled across their parents, the smallest tucking herself under her father’s arm.

  Meg, Spence, Ted, and Sunny sat on a blanket Shelby provided. Spence squeezed in too close, and Meg eased onto the grass. Ted braced his weight on his elbows and listened as Sunny enumerated the chemical compounds used to make specific colors of fireworks. He seemed fascinated, but Meg suspected his mind was someplace else. The guests cheered as the first pinwheels exploded in the sky. Spence dropped one hot, hairy paw over Meg’s hand. The moist evening air made the stench of his cologne more pungent, and as a rocket shot into the air, the black stone in his pinkie ring winked at her like an evil eye.

  The cologne . . . the heat . . . too much wine . . . “Excuse me,” she whispered. She extricated herself and made her way through the blankets and beach towels to French doors that opened into a spacious family room. The cozy, English country decor featured soft-cushioned couches and easy chairs; end tables holding magazines and silver-framed family photographs; and bookcases displaying model airplanes, board games, and a complete set of Harry Potter.

  The door opened behind her. Spence had followed her inside, and her stomach clenched. She was tired, out of sorts, and she couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m in love with Ted Beaudine. Passionately in love with him.”

  “You’ve got a weird way of showing it.”

  Shit. Not Spence at all. She spun around to see Ted standing just inside the French doors, his tall, absolutely perfect body silhouetted against the night. A rocket exploded in the sky forming a golden starburst behind his head. It was so infuriatingly predictable she could have screamed. “Leave me alone.”

  “Passion sure does make you crabby.” As he moved away from the door, the golden sparks tumbled to oblivion in an aerial waterfall. “Just checking to see if you’re okay. You looked a little peaked.”

  “The stench of too much cologne, and that’s bull. You want to get away from Sunny.”

  “I don’t know why you’d say that. She’s a real smart girl. Hot, too.”

  “And she’d be perfect for you, except you don’t really like her, not that you’d admit to disliking anybody except me. Still, if you can manage to fall in love with her, you’ll have that awful golf resort built before you know it. Spence told me himself that a match between you and Sunny would seal the deal. That’s why he came back to Wynette.” She shot him a dark look. “As I’m sure you’ve already figured out.”

  He didn’t bother to deny it. “Wynette needs the resort, and I’m not apologizing for doing everything I can to make it happen. There’s hardly a person in this town who won’t benefit.”

  “You’re going to have to marry her, then. What does one man’s happiness mean against the well-being of the multitudes?”

  “We barely know each other.”

  “Not to worry. Sunny’s a woman who goes after what she wants.”

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She’s just having fun.”

  “Au contraire. You are the one and only Ted Beaudine, and the mere sight of you makes women—”

  “Shut up.” Harsh words, gently delivered. “Just shut up, will you?”

  He looked as tired as she felt. She slumped down on the damask upholstered couch, propped her elbows on her knees, and rested her chin in her hands. “I hate this town.”

  “Maybe. But you also like the challenge it’s giving you.”

  Her head shot up. “Challenge? I’m sleeping in a hot, unfurnished church and selling Bud Light to pampered golfers who can’t be bothered to recycle their beer cans. Oh, yeah, I love the challenge all right.”

  His eyes seemed to see right through her. “That only makes it more interesting, doesn’t it? You’re finally getting a chance to
test yourself.”

  “Finally?” She jumped up off the couch. “I’ve kayaked the Mekong River and gone diving with great whites off Cape Town. Don’t talk to me about tests.”

  “Those weren’t tests. That’s your idea of fun. But what’s happening here in Wynette is different. You finally get to see what you’re made of without Mom and Dad’s money. Can you survive in a place where Spence Skipjack is the only person impressed by your last name and where, let’s face it, nobody likes you?”

  “Torie sort of likes me. And Haley Kittle.” The way he was studying her made her uncomfortable, so she went over to the bookcase and pretended to inspect the titles.

  He came up behind her. “It’s interesting watching you. Can Meg Koranda survive on nothing but her wits? That’s the real challenge for you, isn’t it?”

  He wasn’t exactly right, but he wasn’t entirely wrong, either. “What do you know? You’re the all-American success story in reverse. Raised by rich parents and brought up with all the advantages. You should have ended up as spoiled as me, but you didn’t.”

  “You’re not spoiled, Meg. Stop saying that about yourself.”

  Once again he’d unbalanced her. She stared at a row of reference books. “What do you know? You’ve never screwed up in your life.”

  “You’re wrong there. When I was a kid, I vandalized the Statue of Liberty.”

  “You and a Magic Marker. Big deal.” She ran her thumb down the spine of a dictionary.

  “Oh, it was worse than that. I climbed into the crown, broke a window, and tossed out a No Nukes banner.”

  That shocked her so much she finally turned to face him. “Lucy never told me about that.”

  “Didn’t she?” He tilted his head so she couldn’t quite see into his eyes. “I guess we never got around to talking about it.”

  “How could you not have talked about something so important?”

  He shrugged. “Other things on our minds.”

  “The experience must have been at least a little traumatic.”

  His expression relaxed, and he smiled. “It was the worst moment of my childhood. And the best.”

  “How could it have been the best? Surely you got caught?”

  “Oh, yes.” He gazed at the English landscape hanging over the fireplace. “I didn’t meet my father until I was nine—long story—and when we did meet, it didn’t go well. He expected something else in a kid, and I expected a different kind of father. We were both pretty miserable. Until that day at the Statue of Liberty.”

  “What happened?”

  He smiled again. “I learned I could count on him. That changed both our lives, and from then on, nothing was the same between us.”

  Maybe it was the wine. The fact that they were both tired from a long day and the strain of dealing with Spence and Sunny. All she knew was that they were staring into each other’s eyes one moment, and the next, for no discernible reason, they both moved, and their bodies touched. She tilted her chin and he lowered his head, his eyelids dropped, and just like that, they were kissing.

  She was so shocked that her arm flew up and banged him in the elbow, but her clumsiness didn’t stop either of them. He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head to exactly the right angle. She was too curious and too turned on to pull away.

  He tasted good, like beer and bubble gum. His thumb slid into the tender place behind her earlobe while his other hand tunneled into her curls. No doubt about it. She was on the receiving end of one of the best kisses of her life. Not too hard. Not too soft. Slow and perfect. But of course it was perfect. He was Ted Beaudine, and he did everything impeccably.

  She didn’t remember putting her arms around his shoulders, but there they were, and as his silver tongue worked its magic against her own, she melted.

  He eased away first. Her eyelids fluttered, and as she gazed up, she met a look of shock that must have matched her own. Something had happened. Something unexpected. And neither of them was happy about it. Slowly he released her.

  She heard a noise. He straightened. Sanity returned. She hooked a piece of hair behind her ear and turned to see Sunny Skipjack standing inside the French doors, hand at her throat, her customary self-confidence crumpling. Meg had no idea whether the kiss had been the same impulsive act for Ted that it had been for her or whether he’d known Sunny was standing there all along and recklessly initiated the kiss to discourage her. Either way, he regretted it, something that was as clear as the trembling in her knees. He was tired, his defenses had been down for once, and he knew he’d just screwed up royally.

  Sunny struggled for composure. “One of life’s awkward moments,” she said.

  If Sunny bolted because of this, the people of Wynette would sure enough blame Meg, and she had enough problems without that. As she gazed up at Ted, she reassembled her features into a portrait of a damsel in distress. “I’m sorry, Ted. I know I can’t keep throwing myself at you like this. I understand how uncomfortable it makes you. But you’re just so . . . so . . . frickin’ irresistible.”

  One dark eyebrow shot up.

  She looked over at Sunny, girlfriend to girlfriend. “Too much wine. I swear it won’t happen again.” And then, because she was only human, “He’s so vulnerable now. So sweet and helpless from the mess with Lucy. I took advantage.”

  “I’m not vulnerable or helpless,” he said tightly.

  She pressed her index finger to his lips. “An open wound.” With the dignity of a brave woman suffering from unrequited love, she edged past Sunny and headed for the patio, where she reclaimed her purse and set off for what currently passed as her home.

  She’d just washed her face and slipped the happy printing company T-shirt over her head when she heard a car outside. A random Texas serial killer could have just shown up, but she was putting her money on Sunny Skipjack. She took her time hanging the Modigliani dress in the old choir robe closet, then let herself out the door by the altar into the main section of the church.

  She was wrong about Sunny.

  “You forgot your party favor,” Ted said.

  She didn’t like the heady rush she felt at the sight of him standing at the rear of the sanctuary holding up a wooden paddleball stenciled with an American flag. “Shelby had a basket of patriotic yoyos, too, but I figured you’d like a paddle better. Or maybe that was just me projecting what I thought you needed.” He slapped the paddle hard against his hand.

  Although her happy printing company T-shirt hung over her hips, she wore only an ivory thong beneath. She needed more clothes, like chain mail and a chastity belt. He took a few swipes at the rubber ball with the paddle and sauntered forward, his eyes all over her. “Thanks for helping me out back there with Sunny, although I could have done without your commentary.”

  She eyed the paddle and then him. “You brought it on yourself. You shouldn’t have kissed me.”

  His brow knit with phony indignation. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who kissed me.”

  “I did not. You were all over me.”

  “In your dreams.” He gave the paddleball an extra-hard slap. She cocked her head. “If you break a window with that thing, I’m reporting you to my landlord.”

  He caught the ball, gazed at what he could see of her bottom, and ran his thumb along the curve of the paddle. “The strangest idea just came into my head.” The high ceiling fan ruffled his hair. Once again, he slapped the paddle against his palm. “I’d tell you about it, but it’d only make you mad.”

  Sex hung in the air between them as explosive as the evening’s fireworks. Regardless of who had initiated their kiss, something had irrevocably shifted between them, and they both knew it.

  So much for playing games. Although nothing was more repugnant to her than becoming another of Ted Beaudine’s sexual conquests, the idea of making him one of her sexual conquests was worth pondering. “You can have any woman in this town. Probably in the whole state. Leave me alone.”

  “Why?”

&nb
sp; “What do you mean, why? Because you’ve treated me like crap ever since I got here.”

  “Wrong. I was perfectly nice to you at the rehearsal dinner. I didn’t start treating you like crap until after Lucy ran off.”

  “Which wasn’t my fault. Admit it.”

  “I don’t want to. I might have to blame myself, and who needs that?”

  “You do. Although, to be fair, Lucy should have figured it out before things went so far.”

  He gave the paddleball a couple of whacks. “What else have you got on your grievance list?”

  “You forced me to go work for Birdie Kittle.”

  He dropped the paddle on the brown chair, as if the temptation to use it was becoming too strong to resist. “It kept you out of jail, didn’t it?”

  “And you made sure I was paid less than the other maids.”

  He played dumb. “I don’t remember that.”

  She nursed all the injustices. “That day at the inn, when I was cleaning . . . You stood in the doorway and watched me nearly kill myself trying to turn that mattress.”

  He grinned. “I have to admit, that was entertaining.”

  “Then, after lugging your bag of clubs for eighteen holes, you gave me a one-dollar tip.”

  She shouldn’t have brought that up because he still held a grudge. “Three holes you cost me. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that all my new head covers are missing.”

  “You were my best friend’s fiancé! And if that’s not good enough, don’t forget that I basically hate you.”

  He hit her full force with those golden brown eyes. “You basically like me, too. Not your fault. It just happened.”

  “I’m going to make it un-happen.”

  His voice turned to smoke. “Now why would you want to do that when we’re both more than ready to take the next step? Which I highly recommend we do naked.”

  She swallowed. “I’m sure you’d like that, but maybe I’m not ready.” Coyness wasn’t her strong suit, and he looked disappointed in her for making the attempt. She threw up her hands. “Okay, so I’ll admit I’m curious. Big deal. We both know what that leads to. Dead cat.”