Lady Be Good Part 7

"And just where do you plan to put that tattoo?"

"My upper arm." Once this was over, she'd have to keep it covered for the rest of her life.

"Ladies don't put tattoos on their upper arms. They put them on an ankle or the back of a shoulder or, if they really want to be discreet-and this is what I'd recommend in your case if I were going to make a recommendation, which I'm not-a breast breast."

Her cup froze halfway to her lips. That single word brought it all back. The feel of the silk sliding away from her skin, the warmth of his mouth, the pull of his lips on her nipple.

He knew exactly what he was doing, of course.

"Would you, now?" She forced the cup the rest of the way to her mouth, sipped, then set it back down. "Well, I'm certain you should know."

"You're still p.i.s.sed about last night, aren't you?"

"Miffed, Mr. Traveler. Headmistresses are never p.i.s.sed."

He grinned, then regarded her with boyish earnestness. "Fill in the holes in my logic here, will you? The way I see it, you're a very nice unmarried lady who'd like a little s.e.xual variety in her life. Perfectly natural. But back home in England, you have a reputation to maintain, so you sure can't do any experimentation there. In the great state of Texas, though, n.o.body's going to be any the wiser. Now, what I want to know is this: What difference does it make whether I happen to be a professional gigolo or a professional golfer? I've got all the necessary equipment, and I'm happy to let you use it."

"You're far too generous with your toys, but the fact is ... I wouldn't let you touch me again if you were the last man on earth." The moment she'd spoken the words a red alert sounded in her brain. This lazy fool, who wasn't a fool at all, made his living by competing, and, unless she was mistaken, she could see the light of challenge beginning to gleam in his eyes.

"Well, we'll just have to see about that, now, won't we, Lady Emma?"

Thankfully, the waitress appeared at that moment with their food. Emma ate most of her strawberries, but wasn't able to manage more than a few bites of toast. Kenny finished his pancakes, then dug into her leftovers.

"That's not sanitary," she pointed out.

"We already swapped germs last night, so I'm not too worried about it."

She wasn't going to let him make her uncomfortable by thinking about those slow, deep kisses. "It's a wonder you aren't fat, with the way you eat."

"I burn a lot of energy during the day."

"Doing what what?"

"Loafing's hard work."

She had to suppress a smile, and that bothered her. She wouldn't let herself be won over this easily by his counterfeit charm. "If you won't help me find a tattoo parlor, I'll simply consult the telephone directory and find one myself. In the meantime, I need to do some shopping."

"I thought this was supposed to be a research trip." He signaled the waitress for the check.

"It is, but research won't take up all my time. I do want to spend a few hours this afternoon at the Dallas Historical Society. I've made arrangements to check some of their papers. I also have a bit of work to do in Austin at the University of Texas library and in San Antonio."

"So tell me more about this lady you're researching."

"Lady Sarah Thornton? I'm doing a paper on her for the New Historian New Historian. Although I'm not in the cla.s.sroom anymore, I like to stay involved. Lady Sarah was an extraordinary woman, a member of the aristocracy, but quite independent for her time, and insatiably curious. She traveled alone through this region in 1872."

"She managed the trip by herself, did she?" he said pointedly.

"Lady Sarah was more courageous than I am. Her account is fascinating because she saw Texas both through the eyes of a foreigner and a woman. She was in Dallas the day the first train arrived on the Houston & Texas Central. Her description of the buffalo barbecue they held to celebrate is very lively."

He tossed some bills on the table and rose. "Seems strange a lady in 1872 would have had the nerve to travel through Texas all by herself, but a modern-day, independent woman like yourself is such a pansy."

"Lady Sarah didn't have to deal with cars," she pointed out as she followed him. Lady Sarah also didn't need to make a duke uneasy by openly traveling with a good-looking man.

As they walked back into the lobby, she handed him two dollars. "To cover my tea. You made me order the rest, so you can pay for it."

"Keep your two dollars."

"No need to be surly." She tucked the bills back into her purse and, just to antagonize him, pointed her brolly toward the door. "This way."

He s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her hand and pitched it at the doorman. "Burn this for me, will you?"

"Deliver it to my room, please," she told the doorman. "Ms. Wells-Finch. Number 820."

She was headed for the parking lot before she realized Kenny wasn't with her and she had no idea where he'd put his car.

She looked back and saw him moving like a snail on sleeping pills out from beneath the porte cochere. She tapped the toe of her sandal.

He greeted a pair of businessmen, then stopped to admire some tile work.

She sighed and looked around for his car. Somehow she wasn't surprised to spot it parked in a handicapped spot. She waited impatiently for him to approach.

Finally, he unlocked the door. "You sure you have to do your shopping today?" he asked as she slipped inside and fastened her seat belt.

"Yes. Someplace trendy, but inexpensive."

"Then you're out of luck because I don't know the first thing about bargain shopping. Just buy what you want and put it on my charge." They turned back out onto the highway.

"I will not!"

"Why get picky now? You didn't object to that one hundred dollars a day you're forcing me to pay to keep your mouth shut."

"Two hundred dollars a day. And that's blackmail money, so it's different, isn't it?" She regarded him smugly. hundred dollars a day. And that's blackmail money, so it's different, isn't it?" She regarded him smugly.

His gaze swept over the outfit she'd chosen for today: a short denim skirt in persimmon with a cream-colored top tucked into it. The top had a garden scene printed on it, complete with a pair of bluebirds. "Nice s.h.i.+rt."

"Thank you. My fifth form students gave it to me at the end of the term."

As they rode along the freeway, she finally had a chance to take in the sights of this state she knew only from history books. The collections of strip malls, billboards, and fast food restaurants held little interest to her, but the sheer size of it took her breath away. She couldn't imagine anything more different from Lower Tilbey or from St. Gert's aged red brick buildings, tidy lawns, and ancient trees. What must Lady Sarah Thornton have thought when she saw such a vast stretch of land and sky?

She leaned forward as Kenny began to pull into another handicapped s.p.a.ce. "Absolutely not."

"I wasn't going to park here," he said with an air of injured innocence. "Shopping with a lady isn't my favorite activity, so I'm just dropping you off while I hit some b.a.l.l.s at the practice range. I'll pick you up in three hours."

"Gracious, I know exactly what I want, and it won't take me nearly that long." She whipped his keys from the ignition. "Come along, then."

He s.n.a.t.c.hed his keys back, but he came with her, although he grumbled the entire way into the mall. "You'd better not take more than half an hour. I mean it, Lady Emma. After half an hour, me and my Caddy are taking off whether you're with us or not."

"Uhm." She studied the shop windows and, almost immediately, saw what she wanted. She gestured toward a rounded concrete bench. "Wait right here. I won't be a moment."

"You are the d.a.m.nedest, most order-giving female it's ever been my misfortune to meet up with! Do you think I can just sit in the middle of a major American shopping mall without starting a near riot?"

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"I'm a semi-famous person, that's what."

As if to prove his words, two young women carrying pink Victoria's Secret shopping bags came charging toward him. "Kinny!"

He glared at her. "Now see what you've done?"

"I won't be long. I promise."

She wasn't, but by the time she'd returned, he had a small crowd gathered around him, and he seemed to be holding an impromptu golf clinic.

"After you get to the top, make sure you start down nice and smooth. You want to build up that speed as you go through...."

She caught his eye, but, for all his former protesting, he appeared to be enjoying himself and didn't seem in any hurry to get away. She ducked into an accessory place and added a few pieces of inexpensive costume jewelry to her purchases before he finally broke away from his admirers and led her back to the car.

"Now the tattoo," she said when they were once again on the road.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

He thought for a few minutes. "All right, if you're dead set, I'll help you. But it's going to take me a little time to find a place where you can be sure they're using clean needles."

"Needles?"

"How do you think they put those tattoos on?"

"Yes, of course. I mean ... I know they use needles. It was just the way you said the word."

"It's going to hurt, Queen Elizabeth. So if you can't take the pain, maybe you'd better rethink this."

"It won't be that painful."

His snort wasn't encouraging.

"You're just trying to unnerve me."

"Well, excuse me for being a compa.s.sionate and caring human being."

"Ha!"

"All right. You win. I'll look into the whole thing after I drop you off to do your research."

For once he was thinking efficiently. "Excellent idea."

They headed for the State Fair Park, where the Dallas Historical Society was located in an impressive, T-shaped pavilion called the Hall of State. She slipped out of his car in the parking lot after agreeing to meet at three o'clock.

Although she had intended to head immediately for the offices of the Historical Society, she discovered there was too much she wanted to see first, and she took her time studying the giant murals that ran around the four-story interior of the Great Hall of Texas, depicting the state's history from 1528 into the twentieth century. When she finally arrived at the Historical Society offices, she was greeted warmly, and she spent the next few hours cross-checking the notes she'd taken from Lady Sarah's journal with other sources from the time period. She was so absorbed in her research that she lost track of time and didn't arrive at the spot where she was supposed to meet Kenny until three-fifteen.

The Cadillac was waiting, along with its irate driver. "You're late. I hate that!"

"Really, Kenny, you have no right to complain. How was I supposed to know you'd be prompt today after you were so late yesterday?"

"Yesterday was different."

"Because you were the one who was late instead of me."

"Something like that."

"You're impossible. Did you find the tattoo parlor?"

"Even better. I found a lady who does tattoos in her home."

"Really? And you think she's reliable?"

"Pillar of the community. You're not going to get anyone more reliable. Only thing is, she's got a busy schedule, and she can't take you till ten o'clock tonight. I had to practically beg for that."

She hoped Hugh's detectives would be around. "That'll be fine." Her stomach rumbled. "I could use a bit of lunch."

"I know just the place."

Twenty minutes later they drove through the stone gates of a country club that screamed exclusivity. The tree-shrouded lane ended in a pillared Greek Revivalstyle building. After Kenny parked, she got out and headed for the front entrance. Once again, it took her a while before she realized he wasn't following. She turned.

He stood watching her, his hands splayed on his hips. "Do you know where you're going?"

She glanced around. "Not really."

"Then why are you leading?"

"I don't know. I always do."

"Well, stop. I don't like it."

Neither had Jeremy Fox. But she wasn't the kind of woman to be a follower. She'd been on her own most of her life, and she'd learned very early that she could either lead the way or get trampled.

He jerked his thumb toward a smaller building. "We're going over there."

"Sorry." She felt foolish as she followed him along a walk that led to a door topped with ornately carved gold wooden letters indicating it was the pro shop. The men inside greeted him as if he were visiting royalty.

"Hey, Kinny! How's it goin'?"

"Haven't seen you in a few days."

"Did you hear Charlie made an eagle on seven yesterday? Got so excited his heart kicked up, and he couldn't finish the round."

Kenny returned their greetings, said he hadn't heard about Charlie, then led Emma toward a gla.s.s-walled grill room that connected to one end. "Hope you don't mind eating alone." He gestured toward the hostess. "Take care of her, will you, Maryann? I'm gonna hit some b.a.l.l.s."