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Ted shot to his feet. “Let’s dance.”
With a tilt of her head, she transformed herself into the mother of all sorrows. “Blister.”
“Slow dance,” he said silkily. “You can stand on my feet.”
Before she could come up with a way out, Ted had her arm and was dragging her toward the crowded dance floor. He tucked her against him—one step from a chokehold. At least he wasn’t wearing a belt, so she didn’t have to put up with a buckle . . . or any other object pressing into her flesh. The only thing hard about Ted Beaudine was the expression in his eyes. “Every time I think you can’t cause more trouble, you manage to surprise me.”
“What was I supposed to do?” she retorted. “Fly off to Vegas with him? And when did ‘pimp’ become part of your job description?”
“It wouldn’t have gone that far. All you had to do was be nice.”
“Why should I? I hate this town, remember? And I don’t care if your stupid golf resort gets built. I don’t want it to get built.”
“Then why have you gone along with this so far?”
“Because I’ve sold out. To put food in my stomach.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“I don’t know . . . It seemed like the right thing to do. God knows why. Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not the evil bitch everybody’s made me out to be. But that doesn’t mean that I’m willing to turn hooker for the good of y’all.”
“I never said you were evil.” He actually had the nerve to look wounded.
“You know he’s only interested in me because of my father,” she hissed. “He’s a little man with a big ego. Being around famous people, even an auxiliary person like me, makes him feel important. If it weren’t for my parents, he wouldn’t look at me twice.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Come on, Ted. I’m not exactly the type to be a rich man’s bimbo.”
“That’s true.” A world of compassion softened his voice. “Bimbos are generally good-hearted women who are pleasant to be around.”
“Spoken from experience, I’m sure. By the way, you may be God Almighty on the golf course, but you’re a lousy dancer. Let me lead.”
He lost a step, then looked at her oddly, as if she’d finally taken him by surprise, although she couldn’t imagine why, and she relaunched her attack. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you and your lover fly to Vegas with Spence? I’m sure the two of you could show him a great time.”
“That really galls you, doesn’t it?”
“The fact that you screwed around on Lucy? Oh, yes. Right now she’s eaten up with guilt. And don’t think for a second that I won’t fill her in on all the sordid details of your extracurricular activities as soon as we get the chance for a long chat.”
“Doubt she’ll believe you.”
“I don’t get why you proposed to her in the first place.”
“Not being married was starting to hold me back,” he said. “I was ready to move on to the next stage of my life, and I needed a wife for that. Someone spectacular. The daughter of the president fit the bill perfectly.”
“Did you ever love her? Even a little?”
“Are you crazy? It was a sham right from the beginning.”
Something told her he was throwing up a smoke screen, but the mind-reading thing she’d been doing all evening failed her. “It must be hard being you,” she said. “Mr. Perfect on the outside. Dr. Evil on the inside.”
“It’s not that hard. The rest of the world isn’t as insightful as you.”
His easy smile slid over her, and a tiny zap—almost imperceptible—so small it was hardly worth noting—but still there— hit her nerve endings. Not all of them. Just a couple. The ones located somewhere south of her belly button.
“Crap!” he exclaimed, voicing her feelings perfectly.
