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“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—
She let out an audible gasp as it all became clear to her.
“You bastard!”
“Wh—”
She slammed her purse into his thigh. Anger swirled around her and she found herself running. But there was nowhere to go, and this time she couldn’t commandeer his car since the keys were tucked safely in his pocket.
She raced blindly toward a Gray Line tour bus and pounded on the door to awaken the driver who snoozed at the wheel. “Let me in!”
“Emma! For Pete’s sake, what—”
The driver swung open the door, and she rushed up the steps. “Shut the door immediately. And whatever you do, don’t let that man in—”
Kenny stepped into the bus. “We’ve been having trouble getting my wife’s medication adjusted ever since her brain transplant. I’ll take care of her.”
“Stay away from me!”
“Honey . . .”
She rounded on him in the aisle. “Liar!”
“Now, Emma . . .”
“You weasel!”
“I’m not a—”
“Blackguard!”
