Call Me Irresistible Part 3

"Nothing good. Dyl, I need a loan."

"Mom said this would happen. The answer's no."

"Dyl, I'm not kidding. I'm in a jam. They took my credit card, and-"

"Grow up, Meg. You're thirty years old. It's sink-or-swim time."

"I know. And I'm going to make some changes. But-"

"Whatever you've gotten yourself into, you can get yourself out of. You're a lot smarter than you think. I have faith in you, even if you don't."

"I appreciate that, but I need help now. Really. You have to help me."

"Jesus, Meg. Don't you have any pride?"

"That's a s.h.i.+tty thing to say."

"Then don't make me say it. You're capable of handling your own life. Get a job. You know what that is, right?"

"Dyl-"

"You're my sister, and I love you, and because I love you, I'm hanging up now."

She stared at the dead phone, angry but not surprised at this evidence of a family conspiracy. Her parents were in China, and they'd made it blazingly clear they wouldn't rescue her again. Her creepy grandmother Belinda didn't give out freebies. She'd force Meg to enroll in acting cla.s.ses or something equally insidious. As for her uncle Michel ... The last time they'd visited, he'd delivered a biting lecture on personal responsibility. With Lucy on the run, that left Meg's three other close friends, all of whom were rich and any one of whom would lend her money.

Or would they? That was the thing about them. Georgie, April, and Sasha were all independent, unpredictable women who'd been telling Meg for years that she needed to stop s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around and commit to something. Still, if she explained how desperate she was...

Don't you have any pride?

Did she really want to give her accomplished friends more evidence of her worthlessness? On the other hand, what were her options? She had barely a hundred dollars in her wallet, no credit cards, an empty checking account, less than half a tank of gas, and a car that could break down at any moment. Dylan was right. However much she might hate it, she needed to get a job ... and fast.

She thought it over. As the town bad guy, she could never get a job here, but both San Antonio and Austin were less than two hours away, just about reachable on half a tank of gas. Surely she could find work in one of those places. It would mean skipping out on her bill, something she'd never done in her life, but she'd run out of options.

Her palms were sweaty on the steering wheel as she pulled slowly out of the parking lot. The roar of the bad m.u.f.fler made her long for the hybrid Nissan Ultima she'd had to give up when her father stopped making the payments. She had only the clothes on her back and the contents of her purse. Leaving her suitcase behind made her crazy, but since she owed the Wynette Country Inn for three nights, well over four hundred dollars, there wasn't much she could do about it. She'd pay them back with interest as soon as she found a job. What that job would be, she had no idea. Something temporary and, hopefully, well paying, until she figured out what to do next.

A woman pus.h.i.+ng a stroller stopped to stare at the brown Buick as it belched a cloud of oily smoke. That, combined with her bellowing m.u.f.fler, hardly made the Rustmobile an ideal getaway car, and she tried to sink lower in the seat. She pa.s.sed the limestone courthouse and the fenced-off public library as she edged toward the town's outskirts. Finally, she spotted the city limits sign.

YOU ARE LEAVING.

WYNETTE, TEXAS.

Theodore Beaudine, Mayor She hadn't seen Ted since their awful encounter in the church parking lot, and now she wouldn't have to. She'd bet anything that women all over the country had already lined up to take Lucy's place.

A siren shrieked behind her. Her eyes shot to the rearview mirror, and she saw the flas.h.i.+ng red light of a police cruiser. Her fingers clenched the steering wheel. She pulled to the shoulder of the road, praying her noisy m.u.f.fler was to blame and cursing herself for not having had it fixed before she left L.A.

Dread pooled in her stomach as she waited for the two officers to check out her plates. Finally, the officer behind the wheel emerged and ambled toward her, his beer belly hanging over his belt. He had ruddy skin, a big nose, and steel wool hair sprouting from beneath his hat.

She rolled down her window and plastered on a smile. "h.e.l.lo, Officer." Please, G.o.d, let this be about my bad m.u.f.fler and not skipping out on my bill. Please, G.o.d, let this be about my bad m.u.f.fler and not skipping out on my bill. She handed over her license and registration before he asked for it. "Is there a problem?" She handed over her license and registration before he asked for it. "Is there a problem?"

He studied her license, then took in her felt cloche. She thought about telling him Ginger Rogers had once worn it, but he didn't look like much of an old film buff. "Ma'am, we have a report that you left the inn without paying your bill."

Her stomach dipped. "Me? That's ridiculous." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement in the outside mirror as his backup decided to join the party. Except his backup wore jeans and a black T-s.h.i.+rt instead of a uniform. And his backup- She stared more closely into the mirror. No! No!

Shoes crunched in the gravel. A shadow fell over the side of the car. She lifted her gaze and found herself staring into the impa.s.sive amber eyes of Ted Beaudine.

"h.e.l.lo, Meg."

Chapter Four.

Ted!" she tried to act as though he was the person she most wanted to see instead of her worst nightmare. "Have you joined the police force?"

"Doing a ride-along." He propped his elbow on the roof of her car. As he took in her appearance, she got the impression that he didn't like her cloche either-or anything else about her. "My schedule for the next two weeks suddenly opened up."

"Ah."

"So I hear you skipped out on your bill at the inn."

"Me? No. A mistake. I didn't-I was just taking a ride. Beautiful day. Skip out? No. They have my suitcase. How could I skip out?"

"I guess by getting in your car and driving off," Ted said, as if he were the cop. "Where are you headed?"

"Nowhere. Exploring. I like to do that when I visit new places."

"Best to pay your bill before you go off exploring."

"You're absolutely right. I wasn't thinking. I'll take care of it right away." Except she couldn't do that.

A truck roared by, heading into town, and another trickle of perspiration slipped between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She needed to throw herself on someone's mercy, and it didn't take long to make her choice. "Officer, could I talk to you privately?"

Ted shrugged and moved to the rear of the car. The officer scratched his chest. Meg caught her bottom lip between her teeth and lowered her voice. "See, the thing is ... I made this stupid mistake. With all my traveling, my mail didn't catch up with me, and that's caused a small difficulty with my credit card. I'll have to ask the inn to bill me. I don't think it will be a problem." She flushed with shame, and her throat closed so tight she could barely get out the words. "I'm sure you know who my parents are."

"Yes, ma'am, I do." The cop reared back his head, which sat on a short, squat neck. "Ted, looks like we've got a vagrant here."

A vagrant vagrant! She threw herself out of the car. "Now wait just a minute! I'm not a-"

"Stay right where you are, ma'am." The cop's hand went to his holster. Ted propped his foot on her rear b.u.mper and watched with interest.

Meg spun on him. "Asking the inn to send me a bill doesn't make me a vagrant!"

"Did you hear what I said, ma'am?" the cop barked out. "Back in the car."

Before she had time to move, Ted approached again. "She's not cooperating, Sheldon. I guess you'll have to arrest her."

"Arrest me?"

Ted looked vaguely sad about that, leading her to conclude that he had a s.a.d.i.s.tic streak. She jumped back into her car. Ted stepped away. "Sheldon, what do you say we follow Miz Koranda back to the inn so she can take care of her unfinished business?"

"Sure thing." Officer Surly pointed down the road a few feet. "Turn around in that drive, ma'am. We'll be right behind you."

Ten minutes later, she was once again approaching the front desk of the Wynette Country Inn, but this time Ted Beaudine walked at her side while Officer Surly stopped by the door and spoke into the mike on his lapel.

The beautiful blond desk clerk sprang to attention as soon as she spotted Ted. Her lips curled in a wide smile. Even her hair seemed to perk up. At the same time she furrowed her brow with concern. "Hey there, Ted. How are you doing?"

"Just fine, Kayla. Yourself?" He had a way of lowering his chin when he smiled. Meg had watched him do it to Lucy at the rehearsal dinner. He didn't drop it far, maybe only an inch, just enough to turn his smile into a curriculum vitae of clean living and honorable intentions. Now he was offering the identical smile he'd bestowed on Lucy to the desk clerk at the Wynette Inn. So much for his broken heart.

"No complaints," Kayla said. "We've all been prayin' for you."

He didn't look remotely like a man in need of prayer, but he nodded. "I appreciate it."

Kayla tilted her head so that her sweep of s.h.i.+ny blond hair fell over one shoulder. "Why don't you join Daddy and me for dinner at the club this weekend? You know what a good time you and Daddy always have."

"Just might do that."

They chatted for a few minutes about Daddy, the weather, and Ted's mayoral responsibilities. Kayla pulled out all the stops, tossing her hair, batting her lashes, doing the Tyra Banks eye-thing, basically giving it everything she had. "We've all been talkin' about that phone call you got yesterday. Everybody thought for sure Spencer Skipjack had forgotten about us. We can hardly believe Wynette's back in the running. But I said all along you'd pull this off."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but it's a long way from a done deal. Remember that up until last Friday, Spence was set on San Antone."

"If anybody can convince him to change his mind and build in Wynette, it's you. We sure do need the jobs."

"Don't I know it."

Meg's hopes that they'd continue their conversation were short-lived as Ted turned his attention back to her. "I understand Miz Koranda here owes you money. She seems to think she can work it out."

"Oh, I hope so."

The clerk didn't look as though she hoped any such thing, and a panicky flush crept from Meg's face to her chest. She licked her dry lips. "Maybe I could ... speak to the manager."

Ted seemed dubious. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"She'll have to," Kayla said. "I'm only helping out today. This is way beyond the realm of my responsibilities."

He smiled. "Oh, what the heck. We could all use a little day-brightener. Go on and get her."

Officer Surly piped up from the door. "Ted, there's been an accident out on Cemetery Road. Can you handle things here?"

"Sure thing, Sheldon. Anybody hurt?"

"Don't think so." He nodded toward Meg. "Walk her over to the station when you're done."

"Will do."

Walk her over to the station? They really were going to arrest her? They really were going to arrest her?

The cop left, and Ted leaned against the desk, comfortable in the world that had crowned him king. She tightened her grip on her purse. "What did you mean when you said talking to the manager wasn't a good idea?"

Ted gazed around the small, homey lobby and seemed satisfied with what he saw. "Just that she's not exactly a member of your fan club."

"But I've never met her."

"Oh, you met her, all right. And from what I hear, it didn't go well. Word is, she doesn't appreciate your att.i.tude toward Wynette... or toward me."

The door behind the desk swung open, and a woman with woodp.e.c.k.e.r red hair and a turquoise knit suit emerged.

It was Birdie Kittle.

"Afternoon, Birdie," Ted said as the inn's owner came toward them, her short, fiery hair blazing against the neutral backdrop of the beige walls. "You're lookin' fine today."

"Oh, Ted ..." She appeared ready to cry. "I'm so sorry about the wedding. I don't even know what to say."

Most men would be mortified by all that pity flowing at them, but he didn't seem even mildly embarra.s.sed. "Things happen. I appreciate your concern." He nodded toward Meg. "Sheldon stopped Miz Koranda here on the highway-fleeing the scene of the crime, so to speak. But there's been an accident out on Cemetery Road, so he asked me to handle it. He doesn't think anybody's hurt."

"We have too many accidents out there. Remember Jinny Morris's daughter? We need to bulldoze that curve."

"It sure would be nice, but you know as well as anybody what the budget's like."

"Things'll be a lot better once you get us that golf resort. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. The inn'll pick up business from all the guests who want to play the golf course but don't want to pay the resort's room prices. Plus, I'll finally be able to open up the tearoom and bookstore next door like I've always wanted. I'm thinkin' of calling it the Sip 'N' Browse."

"Sounds good. But the resort is far from being sewed up."

"It will be, Ted. You'll make sure of it. We need those jobs so bad."

Ted nodded, as if he had every confidence in the world he'd be able to deliver them.

Birdie finally turned her sparrow eyes on Meg. Her lids bore the lightest dusting of frosted copper shadow, and she looked even more unfriendly than during their confrontation in the ladies' room. "I hear you didn't get around to settling up your account before you took off." She came around from behind the desk. "Maybe hotels in L.A. let their guests stay for free, but we're not as sophisticated sophisticated here in Wynette." here in Wynette."

"There was a mistake," Meg said. "Silly, really. I thought the, uhm, Joriks were taking care of it. I mean, I a.s.sumed ... I ..." She was only making herself sound more incompetent.

Birdie crossed her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "How do you intend to pay your bill, Miz Koranda?"

Meg reminded herself that she'd never have to see Ted Beaudine after today. "I-I can't help but notice that you're a very well dressed person. I have an incredible pair of earrings from the Sung dynasty in my suitcase. One of a kind. I bought them in Shanghai. They're worth a lot more than four hundred dollars." At least they were if she chose to believe the rickshaw driver. Which she did. "Would you be interested in barter?"

"I'm not into wearing other people's castoffs. I guess that's more an L.A. thing."

Ruling out Ginger Rogers's cloche.

Meg tried again. "The earrings really aren't castoffs. They're valuable pieces of antiquity."

"Can you pay your bill or not, Miz Koranda?"

Meg tried to come up with a response but couldn't.

"I guess that answers the question." Ted gestured toward the desk phone. "Is there somebody you can call? I sure would hate to have to take you across the street."